


Bold Defiance

by JessJesstheBest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again, Fake Dating, It’s Complicated, Jack being cute, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Technically an alien au, an extreme indictment of the prison system, arcane magic, character death but not really, journalist!dean, kind of, superhero au, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 08:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: “You, Bold Defiance?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You are so predictable.”Castiel had been operating as ‘Bold Defiance,’ evil super-villain, for most of his life. It was the same thing, day after day: scheming, magicking, and getting inevitably foiled by The Guardian: the city’s acting superhero and Castiel’s childhood rival, Anna. It was a comfortable if not altogether productive routine. The periodic kidnapping of journalist, Dean Winchester, didn’t hurt. But what happens when one side actually wins? What does a person do when the person who opposed them, the person who defined them, is gone?





	Bold Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> Yo whaddup I'm Jared, I'm 19, and this is my contribution to the [Supernatural Movie Big Bang!](https://spnmoviebigbang.tumblr.com/)  
> Big ups to the mods and the discord, y'all got me through it.  
> But without further ado...
> 
> *curtain opens*
> 
> **On with the show!**  
> 

Castiel’s prison cell wasn’t very interesting.

He guessed it was more interesting than the usual cement cell. His, at least, had children’s paintings on the wall and a large comfortable chair.

But when you spent most of your life in a small room with very little enrichment, it didn’t matter how pretty the pictures on the wall were. It was boring. So boring it became exhausting just to be there.

Castiel wasn’t going to be there much longer. His latest escape plan was already underway. But still, sitting in that chair, looking at the television with the news of The Guardian’s latest victory was sucking the life right out of him. He sat on the floor against the wall, just for a change of pace.

He wasn’t expecting his cell door to bang open, the warden bolting in, but he wasn’t altogether surprised either.

“Where’s the fire, Warden?” he asked her, mouth quirked in amusement.

Her eyes landed on him, her face souring even while her shoulders slumped in relief. “You shouldn’t be out of the eyes of the guards, inmate.”

Castiel scoffed. “You’re no fun.”

The warden sighed, coming into the room to stand in front of him, her arms crossed.

Castiel remembered when she’d first been appointed warden. He’d been here longer than almost everyone else in the prison, landing here when he was only a toddler. One might question why anyone would allow a child to live at a prison, even if that’s where his escape pod happened to land. Castiel had never questioned this, as he’d never known anything else, but he’d met some other inmates who seemed horrified at this information.

Castiel guessed they might have kept him here because they had no idea what else to do with him. Where the hell do you put a toddler who landed on earth with a pair of huge black wings?

“I’ve got a present for you from The Guardian,” the warden said, shaking the small box in her hand. She opened it in front of him, pulling out a watch that had been nestled inside. She read the tag that hung off the end. “‘To count every second of your 85 Iife sentences.’ Hmm.” The warden’s face creased in disapproval. “Didn’t think she was much for gloating.”

“How rude that Guardian is,” Castiel commented, idly. His wings traced circles in the dust on the floor. “I don’t even want that gift. You should keep it, Warden.”

The warden went from examining the watch to eying him suspiciously.

Castiel shrugged, his wings slumping in his evident boredom. “I don’t need a watch to keep track of how long I’m in here. It takes away from my constant dissociation.” He leaned his head against the wall, looking pitifully at the tv screen mounted at the top of his cell. “It’s only the thought of this Guardian Day ceremony that’s even getting me through.”

The warden hummed, still suspicious, but she put on the watch. “I can’t help but feel like you’re taking everything about this far too well. You’re up to something.”

Castiel slumped farther against the wall, making himself into the absolute picture of pathetic boredom. “Come on, Jody. You know me! Would I ever be up to something?”

The warden snorted before schooling her expression. “That’s Warden to you, inmate.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah, and I’m ‘Bold Defiance’.” Castiel actually did the air quotes to express to the warden the depth of his contempt. When he looked up at her, only half of the imploring innocence in his eyes was feigned. “But remember when we weren’t?”

Jody shook her head, her eyes sad. “You can’t be both Bold Defiance and Castiel at the same time. You have to choose which one you want to be.” She held up her wrist. “Thanks for the watch.”

He watched her leave his cell, the door slamming behind her, feeling more than a little bit guilty over her part in his escape plan.

She had more faith in him to be a good guy than anyone else ever had.

He hated disappointing her.

But a villain’s gotta villain.

  
  


It all started when Castiel was born.

Well, not really. He had a good couple solar cycles with his parents on his home planet. He’d learned to walk and talk and fly from the comfort of Garrison 401. The details of that time for Castiel were hazy: the only kind of memory coming through a warm fuzziness that hit him square between his wings.

Of course, then the collapse happened. Castiel was far too young to understand at the time, but his planet and, in fact, every planet in their solar system was being sucked into a black hole. Nothing was explained to him. He was just wrapped in his wings, given an egg, and dropped into an escape pod that went careening through the cosmos only to land on his new home planet of earth.

Of course, he wasn’t alone. Other children from other planets were saved and sent away. Why, the planet right next door to Garrison 401 had a representative on earth, same as Castiel. In the very same country. In the very same  _ city _ .

It was difficult for Castiel not to resent Anna: prodigy of IKWYDLS 49. They were refugees of the same disaster. They were a similar age, size, allienness. Sure, Anna didn’t have wings, but she could still fly. And yet, everyone loved her. They loved her and they hated Castiel.

Part of that could be due to the fact that Castiel had grown up in a prison and, by chance or fate or whatever machinations worked to make Castiel’s life the way it was, Anna had landed on the property of one of the richest families in the country. She was well cared for – adored. Castiel was tolerated.

Castiel did have some things Anna did not, however. For one: he had his intellect. Anna had super strength and laser vision and speed and accelerated healing but she didn’t have the strategic mind of a Garrisonian.

Nor did she have Jack, the former egg that Castiel had been given upon his evacuation. Everyone on Castiel’s planet was given a fledgeling companion to help take care of them as they developed. A “minion” in villain terms. Castiel disliked referring to Jack as his minion – regardless that he performed all of the duties of a minion, it seemed kinder to call him a companion. He was a Garrisonian, same as Castiel, but without wings and with the power to heal. They were the nursemaids of the planet. Castiel was forever grateful for him.

Although, having a smaller person follow him around everywhere – even when, as a gesture of good will, he was released from the prison and sent to school –  wasn’t a super great way to make friends. It just helped to further isolate him.

Not that he could ever begrudge Jack for that. Even if Jack hadn’t been able to heal him, he would treasure him for his companionship.

Castiel was bullied, to say the least. But Castiel had massive and powerful wings. And Castiel had magic, as undeveloped as it was. And Castiel had a small companion that would literally die for him.

So Castiel defended himself. And that made  _ him _ the bad guy.

And Anna fought back. Which made her the good guy.

She was The Guardian.

So, Castiel, sick of being judged and scorned and pushed around became Bold Defiance.

And so the city had their narrative. 

  
  


“You can scream all you want, Winchester,” Castiel said, stroking one of his many crows. “I'm afraid no one can hear you.”

“Not screaming.”

“You might be thinking: Defiance! How did you escape from your inescapable prison cell?”

“I’m really not.”

“Well, it just took some brain power. Some deception. Some cunning.”

“Five bucks says you just used one of your magic watches.”

Castiel’s wings flicked in irritation – enough to startle his crow and make her fly away.

He  _ had _ used a magic watch. The watch he’d given Jody had a cloaking spell on it, making her temporarily look like him. When all the guards had tried to capture her and put her back in Castiel’s cell, he took the watch and cloaked himself as her. Then he’d simply walked out.

But he couldn’t let  _ Dean _ know that.

“How do you do that, anyway? Doesn’t magic not work in contact with metal?”

“They’re plastic watches,” Castiel answered automatically. Dean smirked. Castiel scowled. “And anyway, it wasn’t a watch. I mean the magic was– it was very impressive and–”

“You can’t lie to me, man, your wings give you away.”

Castiel scowled harder, concentrating on keeping his wings still. Dean’s eyes danced. “You only  _ think _ you know me.”

Dean snorted, absolutely no stress in his posture. He was tied to a chair, hands behind his back and legs strapped to the floor. He was surrounded by sigils and creepy things floating in jars and unnaturally attentive wildlife all focused on him. Cats and dogs and crows and foxes and squirrels and ravens and several species of insect all watching him like, at one word from Castiel, they’d ruin Dean’s day. And there was absolutely no fear in the green of Dean’s eyes.

“You, Bold Defiance?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You are so predictable.”

Castiel didn’t like the way Dean said his name. It wasn’t quite like Dean was mocking him – knowing he went by an invented name and speaking as if just saying the name was humoring him. He kind of said it like how Jody said it. Like he wanted to call Castiel something else.

Castiel folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “I’m not sure how you can claim to find me predictable when I’ve managed to ambush you dozens of times. If I’m so predictable, couldn’t you avoid getting abducted?”

Dean shrugged, his shirt pulling tight across his chest as he pulled on his restraints behind his back. “I probably could. I never really tried.”

“You never–”

“Boss!”

Castiel whipped toward Jack where he was standing in the corner, worrying at the string on his scrubs pants. He gestured to the giant countdown clock.

The ceremony was about to begin. It was time to call The Guardian.

  
  


Castiel didn’t do evil laughs. He barely did normal laughs: an ‘evil laugh’ would only feel and look unnatural. Instead, when his face appeared on the giant projection screens flanking the giant Guardian statue at the new Institute of Heroism, he stared intensely at the cameras, unblinking, his wings arching over him in a menacing shroud of darkness.

He’d made sure to change from his default prison khakis (velcro flap in the back for easy wing-wear) to something more sinister for his villainous performance. Jack was surprisingly adept with earthly textiles and had fashioned him clothing that could accommodate his wings yet were still comfortable enough for long hours of villainy. They were also, by Castiel’s standards, quite stylish.

Dean called it a halter top.

“It is  _ not _ a halter top,” Castiel had told him, peevishly. “It is traditionally known as a jerkin. They were popular fashion in the mid 20th century. ”

Dean eyes had lit up. “Now you’re just jerkin’ my chain!”

It was useless.

“Guardian,” Castiel said, simply.

“Defiance! Welcome to the festivities.” She smiled cheekily, hovering above the crowd in her cliche white jumpsuit and cape. He’d have been more critical over her color choice if the white wasn’t the perfect choice to set off her fiery red hair. Overall the effect was nice.

“Sorry I missed the ribbon cutting,” he said, conversationally. “I was in prison, you understand.”

“Not anymore, I see,” she said, matching his tone. “I hope the poor warden is alright.”

Castiel fought not to let his eye twitch. That was a sore spot not many people knew about. Anna did, naturally, but no one else would understand how personal that comment was.

“I’ll be sure to pass along your concern. After I finish with you here, of course.”

“After you finish with me?” Anna laughed, airily. It might have been meant to be mocking but Anna had never been anything but completely sincere in her whole life. It wasn’t in her genes. “Oh, you know that’s not how this goes.”

“Maybe not before but I’ve got something special for you today. How else could we ring in the first annual Guardian Day without something truly… spectacular.”

With that word as their cue, the city’s ravens erupted upwards from strategic spots around the plaza. They dropped identical small packages among the crowds, causing people to duck and scream and shield small children with their bodies. It was all quite dramatic.

The hex bags that were dropped all ignited at the same time, creating clouds of smoke that permeated the crowd like fog. It wasn’t anything dangerous: just minor spells to promote giggling and sluggishness.

The people who had started to run quickly gave up, instead becoming enraptured with their own hands or the patterns the birds were still making in the sky. Many sat right where they were standing and just burst into the silliest laughter anyone had ever seen.

Anna turned to Castiel on the screen, her face incredulous. “Did you just get everyone  _ stoned _ ?”

Castiel shrugged, the blue feathers of his jerkin tickling his neck. “In a manner of speaking. It’s not dangerous. They can all go back to normal. All you have to do is leave this city and never come back.”

Anna sighed, sinking a little in her obvious exhaustion. “I can’t leave the city unprotected. Look what you’ve done to them.”

“They’re  _ fine. _ ” Castiel responded, a little more snappish than he might have meant. “They’re not the ones you should be worried about, anyway.”

Castiel stepped aside so Dean, smug, obnoxious Dean, was visible.

“Dean,” Anna said, looking if nothing else more exhausted.

“Hey, Guardian.” Dean nodded his head. Castiel was sure he would have waved if not for his hands being tied behind his back.

“Dean Winchester: beloved reported of the top news outlet of the city. And your favorite pet.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where you got that from, dude. Not sure where that started.”

Castiel flicked his eyes at Dean, irritated. “I’ll return him safely, of course. All you have to do is leave. I won’t even ask you to leave the planet! Just the city!”

Anna put her hands on her hips. Castiel watched her slowly rotate in midair, taking in the lingering clouds of smoke and the citizens of her precious city falling over themselves and laughing into their fists. She heaved a heavy sigh, coming back around to look at the screens.

“Where does he have you this time?”

“The abandoned opera house in uptown.”

Castiel turned to glare at him, but Anna didn’t wait for him to confirm or deny. She was already gone when Castiel turned back around.

Castiel smiled privately to himself, removing one of the hemp cords from his wrist and incinerating it. With the talisman gone, the giggly spell that had held most of the citizens hostage lifted. After a collective moment of confusion and horror, Castiel called their attention back to his projection.

“Oh, good, you’re back! And just in time, too. Your hero is about to make a discovery.”

No one left or looked away, now taken hostage by their own curiosity. This was how Castiel preferred to do things: no magical manipulation. Just pure charisma.

Castiel glanced back to Dean, making sure Dean was aware of just how unworried he was.

Dean rolled his eyes but Castiel thought he might have seen a bit of trepidation for the first time.

His smile grew.

Castiel felt it when Anna tripped the wards on the opera house. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair, making it look windswept, before igniting the bowl of spell ingredients he’d had prepared.

All at once, Castiel knew a circle of flame was trapping Anna at the actual abandoned opera house. Simultaneously, the glamour on his own studio was breaking, showing Dean that they were not where Dean had thought they were. Duel projections were erected for the congregation at the Guardian Day ceremony so they could see their precious Guardian, captive in holy fire and trapped far away from their villain, Bold Defiance, whom they could only watch with intrigue and terror.

He projected his voice so Anna could hear him but he spoke only to Dean.

And their audience. But mostly to Dean.

“What your Guardian forgets is that I know her. We are from sister planets. I know every cell in her body, every piece of her makeup. I know how to bend her. I know how to  _ break _ her.”

Castiel paused, allowing a moment for the crowd to see Anna struggle to escape her circle. She did no such thing. Castiel was more annoyed than anything that she wouldn’t play along. Her shoulders looked defeated.

“I never wanted to break her!” Castiel insisted. “I just wanted her to relinquish the stranglehold she has on this city. Just take a vacation! Go on sabbatical! But no. Mother must stick around and watch the kiddies.

“So you’ve left me no option. If you refuse to leave, I have to force you out.”

Sigils lining the walls of the opera house began to glow.

Anna started shaking. She tilted her face upwards.

“I broke this oak from the very stage you stand on. Oak, for spellwork, seeks a powerful companion... a guardian or a liberator. Well, you’re The Guardian. And with this oak I will liberate this city from you.”

Anna wasn’t listening. She was still looking up. “Defiance, is this chandelier iron?”

“The wood from the theater and my blood in the sigils connects them,” Castiel continued, not letting Anna distract him. “And my sigil drawn here…” he drew a banishing sigil in his own blood on the fragment of wood he held for the gathered masses to see. “Will expel you from the city. Permanently.”

“That’s more true than you realize,” Anna said, a rueful smile on her face, her neck straining to keep her face lifted straight up. “Do you know what happens to my people when you mix iron with magic, Castiel?”

“J-just remember, Guardian,” Castiel stuttered, startled Anna had used his real name, but soldiering on. “That this could have been avoided had you left on your own.”

Castiel was already bringing his hand down on the sigil, an arc too quick and powerful to stop even as he heard Anna say, “This is going to kill me.”

“ _ What?!” _ Castiel screamed, but it was too late.

The opera house was filled with the kind of blinding light that created the universe. Every bulb and window in Castiel’s studio shattered simultaneously.

Castiel leapt without thinking, moving to shield Dean and Jack from the shards with his wings.

Pressure pushed in on Castiel’s ear drums, like wind or a drop in atmosphere. He felt a pull on his magic like nothing he was expecting. He couldn’t hear his own screams over the explosions.

Then suddenly it was over. Jack, Dean, and Castiel were huddled together, wide-eyed and breathing heavily under the shelter of Castiel’s wings. Dean, being of earth and therefore not susceptible to the pulsing energy fields that had just been so thoroughly rocked, recovered first.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I-I’m not sure.” Castiel answered, shaking himself and slowly pulling his wings back in. The brush of his secondary feathers against Dean’s warm back was a small distraction that helped pull himself out of shock. His brain snapped back with just one thought: “Anna.”

He whipped around, searching for the projection that previously showed the opera house but it was gone.

“Jack, get the projection back,” Castiel said, already ripping off his jerkin, leaving him bare chested. “And open the sunroof.”

Dean was swearing and sputtering out questions, trying to get Castiel to answer “What the fuck is going on?” But Castiel was already shooting through the opening in the roof, his wings beating the air in forceful bursts. Most of the birds had followed him out, upset and excited by the sudden movement. He didn’t so much as soar but scramble through the air, panicked, toward the opera house, pulling off and burning the bracelets that anchored the warding spells as he went.

He landed heavier than he ever had, clumsy from the erratic flying. “Jack, can you see me?”

“Not yet.” Came Jack’s voice from the vague direction of the walls. “Trying to reinvigorate the projection spells. What’s going on?”

Castiel shook his head, trying to see through the magical debri that was weighing down the air in the opera house. “She’s gone. But that’s what we wanted to happen. Maybe it really did banish her. It doesn’t mean she’s–”

“Wait,” Jack interrupted. “The projection is coming back. I think–”

Castiel couldn’t see his studio the way they could see him but he was sure that horrified choking sound had come from Dean. 

“What? What’s wrong with Dean? What’s happening?”

“Boss?” Jack said, with a kind of appalled swallow. “Look at the stage."

Castiel looked down. It just looked dirty.

“No,” Jack said, voice shaky. “You need to be higher up.”

The tremor in Jack’s voice and the stress of the residual magic frightened him into immediate action. He leapt into the air, his wings beating only twice until he was high enough to rest on the chandelier.

He understood Dean’s horror now.

Giant ash wings covered the stage, the outline of a woman’s body at the center of it.

Castiel fought not to be sick.

“Oh, no.” He choked, jumping back to the stage. He fell to his knees, hands flickering at the edges of the outline, reluctant to disturb it but needing to know it was real. “No no no no no no.”

He started muttering incantations, desperately begging his magic to tell him he wasn’t actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

His magic was not being accomodating in that.

“No no no no no no. No.” He was breathing heavily at this point, his incantations becoming nothing more than a gasped string of denials. “No.”

“Boss?” Jack’s voice broke through Castiel’s continued rejection. “Is it…”

He didn’t finish. It seemed he couldn’t.

“A little known fact about the citizens of planet IKWYDLS 49 is that they have wings just like us. Theirs are more metaphysical than actually physical: more a function than a presence. They’re only visible…” Castiel swallowed. “–upon death.”

Someone on the other side sucked in a gasp. Castiel swallowed again.

“It seems the presence of iron in combination with the magic, instead of banishing Anna from the city, banished her from the mortal coil. Instead of seeing her wings, we see,” Castiel gestured a shaky hand to the large black shapes spanning the surface of the stage. “We see what’s left.”

Castiel could just barely hear a shuddered breath from the other side of the connection. It could almost have been a laugh if there were any humor to be found in it. “Well then, Bold Defiance.” Dean spat his name. This was the mocking tone that people usually used. But Dean never had. Not until now. “Looks like you got what you wanted.”

  
  


The transition of a city from one super-powered alien to another should have had more fanfare.

It was true, this wasn’t how Castiel had wanted things to go: he had never meant Anna any harm. But he was in charge now. It was his job to clean up this city. To protect it. He could finally implement the ideas he’d had to improve the lives of these citizens.

This would probably have been easier if he hadn’t accidentally murdered the city’s golden child.

“I can’t believe I killed her,” Castiel muttered, spread-eagle in his nest. There was a loft above his workshop that Castiel had remodeled, adding pillows and blankets and loose bits of foam to create a nice little bowl of comfort where Castiel did his sleeping. And wallowing.

“I know, boss,” Jack said, reaching into the nest to pat Castiel on the head. He had an actual bedroom downstairs. “You’ve said nothing else since it happened. And it’s been days.”

Jack was exaggerating. They hadn’t anticipated actually winning, if you could call what had happened “winning”. So he and Jack had consulted on how best to proceed. 

There was a  _ reason _ he had fought against Anna so hard for so many years. Yes, it started as self-defense, but the longer Castiel had lived in that prison and had lived with his own oppression, the more he’d learned about the oppression of others. He’d spoken to prisoners about their conditions and the circumstances of their arrest. Most of them weren’t evil or greedy or even particularly ill-intentioned. Most of them were just desperate.

Crime is caused by systematic disenfranchisement, poverty, and a lack of job opportunities. But superheroes didn’t want to hear that. They wanted to keep the peace, not to actually bring justice or put an end to crime.

But now, Anna couldn’t stop him from making those changes.

He already had a first step: start a community reform program for people currently serving time in prison for non-violent crimes. This would create jobs and free up some of the prison funding, not having to cater to so many prisoners, therefore funneling more of the government’s money into other projects. He was a genius!

He just had to…. figure out how to do that.

The only vague outline of a plan he’d had to get anything started involved meeting with the mayor. But first, he’d had to deal with Dean.

They’d ended up dropping Dean at the mayor’s office with a message: that Castiel was the one in charge now and to be ready for his demands.

Castiel didn’t want to rule by force. He didn’t even particularly want to rule! It was a position of necessity, not of ambition. He could have made demands to be put up in the best apartment, to have the mayor move out of his office so Castiel could move in. He could have held the entire city hostage and made any kind of ludicrous command he wanted. But Castiel didn’t want much. He didn’t need much. He had Jack, he had his magic and his loyal woodland companions. He just wanted better for this community so other kids didn’t have to go through what he had. 

He would have been fine if Anna had stayed in charge – stayed The Guardian – if she had just compromised and listened.

“I never meant to kill her.” His voice was so hoarse. Jack patted him again. The squirrels curled against his legs flicked their tails.

“Castiel…” Jack started. Castiel actually lifted his head. He didn’t remember Jack ever having called him by his name. “I know you’re in shock, and that this was never something we planned for, but the end’s the same. You get to do all the social change you wanted.”

Castiel frowned. “But can the city even trust me? How are they ever going to accept that I want what’s best for them, when they thought what was best for them was  _ ‘The Guardian’ _ ?”

Castiel’s tone as he said the name was probably too mocking to be appropriate when referring to a dead person, but there was no helping it. That name had been a thorn in Castiel’s side since Anna had adopted it when they were teenagers.

Jack frowned back, more out of consideration than actual upset. “You could speak to Jody.”

Castiel sighed. “I’ve considered that. She’s so honor bound, she’d probably try to arrest me. And then I’d have to turn her into a toad or something. It would be very messy.”

“You can’t turn people into toads, boss.”

“I know that, but they don’t.”

Jack smiled. Castiel’s lips involuntarily quirked back.

“What about Dean?” Jack tried.

“Dean?” Castiel blinked, disarmed. “What about Dean?”

Jack shrugged. “He knows you better than anyone besides Jody. You two have a rapport.”

Castiel collapsed back onto his back with a groan. “Well, I can never speak to Dean again.”

“What? Why?”

“If the city will never trust me, Dean  _ definitely _ won’t. How many times did I abduct him?”

“Once every seven weeks or so for the past ten years.”

Castiel grunted as if to say,  _ “See?” _

“But I don’t think Dean ever minded. He even said he never actively tried not to get kidnapped!”

Castiel grunted again. Jack sighed.

“Look, boss… I know it’s going to take you some time to get your groove back. But the longer we wait, the worse the city will get. If you don’t step up, and without The Guardian around… who knows what will happen?”

With that lingering question, Jack left Castiel’s nest-side and climbed down the ladder to the ground floor, leaving Castiel with his thoughts.

It didn’t take Castiel long to decide he needed a meeting with the mayor. Soon. 

  
  


 

  
  


The city’s mayor, Chuck Shurley, wasn’t the most steel-spined of men. He had been elected for his ideas but he lacked the grit to put them through. Still, he was a good figurehead for the citizens to rally for or against.

And he was who Castiel met with. Not because Castiel thought he could or would actually do anything, but because if the people saw Castiel going straight for the top dog, it might lend a little credibility to his cause.

Or whatever additional credibility he could get after murdering their hero. But he was trying to move past that.

“Mayor Shurley,” Castiel greeted, inclining his head and making sure his wings were collected at his back in a non-imposing way. Jack had tried to tone down his look for this meeting and make it more professional, but there was really only so professional one could look when their back needed to be left exposed due to monstrous wings. What this left was a black silk number that had a ridiculous amount of lacing to keep fabric around his wing-joints. It was more of a date look, but they  _ really _ hadn’t anticipated winning their last battle, so there was very little that could be done.

In any case, by greeting the mayor with his proper title rather than the derisive taunts Castiel usually used when he was being villainous, Castiel hoped he could persuade the mayor to overlook his unnecessarily flashy look.

The mayor’s terror and general demeanor told Castiel that he needn’t have bothered making either of these allowances, as they would be completely overlooked in favor of focusing on his killing The Guardian.

He sighed.

Castiel gestured to the mayor’s desk, indicating he should sit behind it. They were alone in his large office. Castiel hadn’t made the demand that they meet alone – he definitely wouldn’t have minded a bit of security if it made Chuck more comfortable – but he wasn’t angry to be without them. The less people he had to convince of his intentions, the better. At least this first time.

After a bit of cowardly shuffling, the mayor settled uneasily into his plush leather armchair. Castiel sunk to sit cross-legged on the floor, hoping this made him look non-threatening.

“Look, Chuck, I know the government is run by committee and there’s very little you can do on your own. I have no illusions of your power. I’m not here to turn you into a puppet.”

At this, the mayor did relax the barest amount. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“I needed to set a meeting with you so the public would know I’m proceeding with deliberateness. They won’t take me seriously if I meet with a seemingly random committee member.”

Chuck nodded very slowly, sitting a little more upright in his chair. Castiel fought not to smile. He had been told his smile was unsettling.

“I’m just here to make a couple of things clear.” Castiel lifted his hand to start counting off on his fingers. His movement must have been too quick because the mayor flinched. Castiel bit back another sigh. “Number one: I’m not trying to be a dictator. I don’t want your job, I don’t want to move my stuff into city hall, and I  _ definitely _ don’t want to be the one in charge. The only thing that’s changed as far as the city is concerned is that instead of having The Guardian as a protector, you’ll have me.”

The mayor looked very unconvinced of this. “If you wanted to protect this city, why have you been making trouble for The Guardian for the past decade?”

Castiel tilted his head back in exhaustion. “The answer to that question lies under point two.” Castiel lifted another finger. “Just because I don’t want to be at the helm doesn’t mean there doesn’t need to be some changes around here. You saw it when you were running for office: this city has a lot of problems that are  _ not _ being addressed. An– Guardian handled a lot of street-level crime, but only superficially. We need to address the  _ underlying causes _ of crime, not just the criminals themselves.”

Chuck eyed him suspiciously. He was no less terrified than he’d been when Castiel had walked in, but he seemed like he was less likely to blindly submit. Which was a good thing, actually: Castiel  _ really _ did not want to do this work by force. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

Castiel did grin, then. He tried to ignore the mayor’s recoil. “I’m so glad you asked!”

As if on cue (and actually on cue – Castiel had had them rehearse this several times), Jack strode through the doors wheeling in a projector, dressed in his usual scrubs, but in a more formal black. He hit the automated window shades on his way in.

Castiel popped up off the ground while Jack set the projector up, pointing at the white space over the door so they all had to crane their necks a bit to see it.

“There are several things that need to change, but I think to start, we need to rectify the damage this city’s broken justice system has already wrought.” He clicked a button to show a graphic of prisoners leaving prison. “We need to empty the prisons.”

“What!?”

“Not all the way!” Castiel quickly amended. “Just of the nonviolent criminals. And then we put them in corrections courses. Listen–”

Castiel went through the presentation, pitching his plan with all the passion and vigor he’d amassed in those long nights in his cell. If he could pull this off and create a second chance for those thrown away by The Guardian, maybe the city would see he deserved a second chance, too.

Chuck looked considering. He listened intently and nodded along to Castiel’s words. Castiel could feel the hope rising in him.

“Why haven’t you approached city council with these thoughts before, Bold Defiance?”

Castiel winced internally. He was on the fence about undergoing a brand change to save his abysmal reputation. The association that came with the title ‘Bold Defiance’ was so negative that Castiel wasn’t sure if it was worth the name recognition.

“Well, I tried, Mayor,” Castiel told him, honestly. “Any time I got anywhere close to a public official, The Guardian took me down, sure I was up to no good.”

The mayor’s eyes narrowed. That didn’t bode well.

“The Guardian didn’t want you to move forward with this plan?”

Castiel shook his head, reluctantly. He thought he might be able to tell where this was going.

“Well, I have to say, I can see why. The thought of you wanting to release prisoners is very unnerving. It sounds more like a prison break for your buddies than any kind of positive program for the city.

“No. No no no no no.” Castiel took a step forward, pleading. “Mayor, you have to see these plans make sense. The overcrowding in the city’s prison is a strain on our local economy. If we can get some of those prisoners  _ out _ and  _ contributing _ to the economy, we could–”

“Even if you manage to convince me, you’ll never convince the board  _ or _ the citizens. There’s no way it’ll pass. Not when you had The Guardian against it.”

“She never even heard the plan!” Castiel appealed, desperately. “She just knew that I came up with it and decided it was evil right away!”

Chuck gave him a look, almost pitying.

He was right. That was how every other person in this city would see it, too.

Castiel’s shoulders slumped in defeat before something flipped in him like a switch.

He pulled his shoulders back, his wings extending the length of the room. He took the remaining steps forward until he was looming over the mayor’s desk. Chuck shrunk in on himself, eyes wide and cowardly.

“We’re moving forward with this plan.”

Chuck choked. “Bold Defiance–”

“I don’t actually need your permission,” Castiel interrupted. “I tried doing this diplomatically, but what has diplomacy ever done for me?” 

He took another step forward. Chuck blinked very quickly, shrinking further into his chair. “It’s not like you could stop me,” Castiel said, his voice now deliberately low and rough.

Chuck’s eyes were very round. Castiel could probably see his reflection in them if he tried.

“Hold a press conference,” Castiel commanded. “Tell the city we’re doing things a little bit differently from now on.”

  
  


Castiel’s days of huddling in his nest were over. Or at least on pause.

Castiel spent his days flying over the city. Not touching down. Not doing anything particularly sinister. Just establishing himself as a presence. 

Anna had never let him do this before, calling him ‘menacing’ and ‘a terrorist’ and ‘Castiel’.

The last one was just his name, but she’d had a tone.

He didn’t have any shirts that could accommodate flight –  none of the tops he had were tight enough to prevent drag – so he made these presence-establishing flights shirtless. It was… colder than he’d thought it would be.

Chuck had made his press-conference statement that Monday. By Wednesday, there were protestors outside of city hall. By Friday, there were protest protestors.

At first Castiel was delighted to have a fan-club, but it was just the same hateful bigots who protested pride and planned parenthood. They were only pro-him because others were anti-him. Which wasn’t a great feeling.

On that Saturday, after a week of flights, Castiel landed on the steps above the protestors.

There were a few moments of shocked silence before the yelling and beratements began. Then the other side started yelling at the first group for getting aggressive and not remaining civil. Castiel was very tired and very cold and did not have the patience for any of it.

With a sigh, he tied on a new bracelet and said an incantation. He snapped his fingers and the people fell quiet, struck dumb by his silencing spell.

“Thank you,” Castiel said in his carrying rumble. “I know you didn’t fall silent out of respect but it’s still polite, so thank you for your attention.”

Castiel saw their mouths opening and closing, trying to keep yelling at him. A couple of them shook their fists.

Castiel continued, refusing to feel discouraged. “I am looking for volunteers to contribute to my criminal rehabilitation effort.” The surprise on the gathered faces was extremely gratifying. See, citizens? Castiel wasn’t here to harm you. “We’re looking for counselors, educators, and work staff. This means cooks, sanitation, and security.”

The assembled faces continued to look confused. Some defiant. Castiel bit back a sigh and continued. “These are  _ paid _ positions, by the way. By volunteer, I don’t mean unpaid. I mean volunteer in the sense that you voluntarily leave your current job and instead work for me. As funded by the local government.”

More and more faces were turning from confusion back to anger. More defiance. More shaking fists.

“It goes without saying that should we not receive enough volunteers, citizens will be chosen. Like a draft. This effort  _ will _ happen. You can choose to be a part of it or it will be chosen for you.” He extended his wings, prepared to take off. “Tell your friends.” And he was airborne again.

  
  


After a week straight of intimidation – exposure! A week of exposure – Castiel was happy to have made his point, curling into his nest for a relaxing day of letting the media do its thing.

Someone had been filming at the protest, like Castiel knew they would be, and had uploaded it online, like he knew they would.

“You’re a meme now, boss!” Jack told him brightly. “Look, here’s you landing on the steps and then a gif of Deadpool saying ‘superhero landing’ except they scribbled out ‘hero’ and wrote villain instead.” 

Jack was keeping up with everything, excitedly sorting the different articles and posts into folders marked ‘pro’, ‘con,’ ‘useful,’ ‘mean,’ and ‘meme.’

Castiel groaned. “Can I even be a supervillain if there’s no superhero to oppose?” He blew out a frustrated breath. “If a supervillain is the antithesis of a superhero, how can there be a villain without one? Also, why do I  _ have _ to be the villain? What have I ever done that was categorically villainous?”

“You  _ did _ murder The Guardian,” Jack said fairly.

Castiel waved his hand. “Besides that.”

Castiel had seen some of the memes. Some of his favorites were the videos of him flying over the city, the sound nothing but a child saying ‘nyoom’. He also enjoyed the ‘songified’ clips. The refrain of “Tell your friends” was very catchy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't all memes. Most of the coverage, from Twitter, to the 11 o'clock news, was very negative. It didn’t matter how good his plan was, it didn’t matter that Castiel had released his carefully curated powerpoint to the masses via his Facebook, they refused to listen to reason. His reputation made it so they would never take him seriously.

But he still had to try.

“We’ll give them until the end of the next week to volunteer on their own.” Castiel told him, reluctantly rising from his recline. “In the meantime, I’ll create a short-list of people I’ll want on staff. The chefs and sanitation, we can hire any underpaid minimum wage worker; I don’t think that will be a problem. But for the counselors and teachers, I want the best.”

“I was thinking about that, boss.” Jack rolled back in his wheely-chair, turning to face Castiel, his hands laid primly in his lap. “The people are unsure what you meant by ‘counselors’: legal or psychological.”

Castiel frowned. He’d meant emotional. But legal counsel was a great idea, actually.

“Both.” Castiel nodded decisively. “Our people will need both.”

Jack nodded, a smile growing. “In that case, I have a suggestion.”

Jack wheeled around again, hitting a button and pulling up a video clip of an interview on one of the monitors. The interviewer was none other than–

“Dean?” Castiel practically yelped. “I told you I was never seeing him again, Jack!”

Jack sighed, exasperated. “I know, and I still think that’s stupid. You should see the coverage Dean has done on you. But that’s not who I meant.”

He hit play and the other man, the man Dean was interviewing, started talking about his legal work.

“That’s Sam Winchester,” Jack said, talking over the clip. “He’s Dean’s brother and he happens to be a lawyer.”

Castiel took a step toward the monitor. “A defense attorney?”

Jack winced. “Well, no. He’s an environmental lawyer.” Castiel shot him a look. “But he’s taken cases for Indigenous tribes about their land protections! And he helped with that big case in Louisiana a couple years ago with that water poisoning thing? You should hear him talk about protecting the vulnerable.”

Jack turned up the volume on the interview just in time for Castiel to hear Sam Winchester’s impassioned words.

_ “The lack of regard these big companies have for the people of our city is, frankly, disgusting. They are dumping their waste in our rivers – water that feeds into our ponds and lakes, places where our children play – with no comprehension of the damage the chemicals and detritus are doing to not only the fish and vegetation that live in and around those rivers but the citizens who benefit from them. It’s corporate greed – bottom line – and it’s evil we won’t stand for. Not anymore. _ ”

Castiel hummed. “We’ll see if he volunteers. I don’t know if I want to pull him away from this work.”

Jack scoffed in disbelief. “Are you serious? He’s perfect! You don’t think he could do more positive work with your prisoners than with his trees and things?”

Castiel glared at him again.

Jack shook his head, refusing to be derailed. “No, I know what this is about. You don’t want to get involved with Sam because you’re afraid Dean thinks you’re a monster. You don’t want to interrupt Sam’s life because you know if you try and force him to do anything he might not want to do, his brother will never forgive you.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. “Jack.”

“I think you’re really over-reacting here, boss! You should hear Dean talk about you. He doesn’t–”

“ _ Jack. _ ”

Jack’s mouth snapped closed. He immediately ducked his head and rolled his shoulder forward in a pose of total obedience.

Castiel hated doing that. He didn’t like to think of Jack as someone subordinate to him. They were partners; it was just that Castiel called most and/or all of the shots.

Activating Jack’s service gene like that was a dick move.

But Castiel could not hear about Dean right now. He just couldn’t.

“I’m taking a flight.” Castiel told him. He paused before taking the steps forward and ruffling Jack’s hair. “Let me know if there are any angry mobs heading my way.”

Jack’s smile returned, the hair ruffling bringing back the sweet boy Castiel knew. “Sure thing! Any memes you want me to look out for?”

Castiel shook his head, amused. Then paused. “Any Alexa/Despacito ones.”

Jack saluted. “You got it, boss!”

  
  


The Sam Winchester issue was rendered moot when, against all odds, he volunteered. 

Castiel was surprised. And delighted. And fucking terrified.

He had to be a part of the training process – he had to make sure his new staff knew what the stakes were. He was trying to raise a whole new world: he needed support. Sam seemed taken with his goal, if not his methods. Castiel didn’t interact with him much.

Along with Sam, a truly shocking number of people had volunteered for his effort. However, even with the volunteers, without the explicit support and good PR of city council, there were simply not enough hands on deck to do what they needed until Castiel started plucking people from the woodwork.

As he predicted, volunteers had flooded in for the wage positions. No shortage of cooks and janitors. Almost  _ too many _ people volunteered to be security. That was until they realized they would have to  _ protect _ the prisoners, after which Castiel had only managed to hold onto enough volunteers to scrape by. 

No, it was professors and lawyers and psychiatrists Castiel had had to scout. Luckily, he did have his short-list: the people he’d researched that would bring the kind of energy and resources he thought would make for the best outcome. 

Out of the 340 inmates, 230 of them were convicted for nonviolent crimes. If you were to look at a pie chart, it would look to be about a third of prisoners were convicted for violent crimes, a quarter for property damage and theft, and the final section would be people convicted for drugs – both selling and taking. There was a small sliver for ‘other’ – things like prostitution and harboring immigrants to protect them from ICE or something – but the number of people put in prison for their own poverty, in the case of selling drugs, and disease, in the case of taking them, was something that always turned Castiel’s stomach. 

He’d hired doctors. Recovery specialists to try and treat the hell these poor people had wrought on their bodies and counsel them in how to deal with their addiction.

He hadn’t asked for volunteers for this task because he was having one imported. Their city wasn’t exactly the kind of place that nurtured a healing atmosphere; they had no experience in drug recovery.

Dr. Balthazar Finn was an international marvel. He’d spent years working with the SHP Camden Recovery Service in London and had just been transferred to the US a couple of years ago. He had reached out to Castiel after having seen an article about one of Castiel’s tragic defeats where he’d tried to harness soul magic. It hadn’t worked, but the concept of soul magic had intrigued the doctor. “When recovering from addiction, the soul has to do most of the healing,” he’d said. They’d been in contact ever since.

Balthazar had his own team – a group of fellows and nurses he’d worked with in Chicago or wherever in the US he’d worked previously. It didn’t matter. Balthazar bringing his own team and working on a grant he’d secured from that hospital meant Castiel had medical treatment for his rehabilitation center that he didn’t have to pay for.

Which was good, because paying the kidnapped – co-opted! – teachers and counselors enough to assuage his guilt was eating more of the budget than he’d counted on.

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Castiel said for maybe the dozenth time, his hair sticking out in every direction from all the times he’d run his hands through it.

“You haven’t given any of these teachers enough time to come up with a curriculum for this demographic,” the sheriff, Donna, said, exasperated.

“What’s wrong with my curriculum? Didn’t I have a good outline?” Castiel asked, desperately.

“Different teaching styles?” Jack added, trying to be helpful.

“You have them split up weirdly. We need smaller class sizes,” said Charlie Bradbury, one of the teachers who’d actually volunteered.

“We don’t have enough teachers for that,” Castiel told her, through gritted teeth.

“Our Public Order laws are so fucked, most of these people can get re-arrested for ‘breaking parole’ just by walking outside,” Sam Winchester said, annoyed.

“I’ll be sure to pass that note on to city council,” Castiel answered without looking at him.

“These guys are so used to violence in the prison, even if they’re not ‘violent’ that they keep trying to establish a pecking order,” Meg, one of the security guards, mentioned offhandedly with a kind of relish.

“It is  _ literally _ your job to keep that from happening. It’s like your  _ only _ job.”

“Actually, wouldn’t that be our job?” asked Pastor Jim, one of the volunteer counselors, in a way that was probably meant to be helpful. “Isn’t group therapy supposed to help their underlying anger and prepare them to be back on the outside?”

“If we don’t set up the infrastructure to get these guys actual jobs once they leave this place, none of this is going to matter,” contributed Pamela, a non-volunteer counselor, in a way that helped in no way whatsoever.

Castiel, overwhelmed by the number of people in his office,  _ fwoomed _ his wings out, creating a feathery dome for only him and Jack.

And, oddly enough, Sam Winchester who must have been just within Castiel’s wing radius.

Castiel tried to ignore him, despite being able to feel his heat acutely against his wing’s ulna.

“Jack, give me  _ something _ . What are the inmates – uh, patients? We need to work on our language. What are they doing right now? What can I get done  _ right now _ ?”

“Everyone’s in the cafeteria. We’ve got most of security there, besides Meg.”

“Is it likely a fight will break out?”

“Not very. Benny made gumbo.”

Castiel nodded in relief. They were lucky to get Benny. His gumbo was really very good.

“A month long stint isn’t a bad note to go out on, boss,” Jack told him, gently. “It’s longer than anyone thought this experiment would last.”

Castiel looked at him, betrayed. “Excuse me?”

“You just don’t have the resources,” Sam said, stepping forward so he wasn’t pressed so firmly against Castiel’s wing. “Sorry, hi. I know I probably wasn’t meant to be involved in–” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “This. But I am within the wings, so permission to speak?”

Castiel was still trying to pretend Sam wasn’t there. Maybe ill-advised, but Castiel had a tactic and he was going to stick to it.

Unfortunately, this left Jack telling Sam to “Go right ahead!”

“Thank you,” Sam said, nodding his head at Jack. Jack beamed. “This isn’t a bad idea you have, Castiel. I’ve been going on about prison reform for years – since back when I was in pre-law. It’s good to see you taking the initiative. But you can’t do it on your own.”

Castiel nodded, breaking his own boycott on acknowledging Sam with a sigh. “I know that. That’s why I asked for volunteers.”

“You need more than that,” Sam said, grinning. “The city council has the resources you need. And the experience with programs like this. They’d have to come around to your side if you get popular support from the constituents. My brother’s in the news, he could head your PR, he could–”

“No!”

Castiel’s wings retracted with a swiftness that left Sam’s too-long hair whipping into his face. In a lucky turn of events, everyone else who’d been crowding Castiel’s office had left.

“Thank you for your input, Sam. I will put it up for consideration. Please don’t ask Dean for anything, if we decide to use his services, I’ll… I’ll contact him myself.”

Sam nodded, a little startled, but left the office anyway.

As soon as Sam had whipped out of sight, Castiel had Jack by the collar and was pulling him forward. “We are  _ not _ contacting Dean. Now, I am making it your job, specifically, to keep Sam Winchester away from me. I don’t need him messing with my head.”

Jack sighed, not at all frightened or threatened to be in Castiel’s clutches this way. “Okay, boss. Whatever you say.”

Castiel let out a breath of relief and released his friend, as Jack knew he would, because he loved him, goddammit.

“I’m going to go check in on the prisoners.” Castiel stood up smoothing down his work jerkin. It had a tie. “Or… not prisoners. We should really come up with a better name for them.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll put it on the to-do list, boss.”

Castiel frowned at him, deciding if Jack was making fun of him or not. Jack just looked at him with a dopey smile and huge doe eyes. Castiel couldn’t help but smile back.

  
  


The city had separate men’s and women’s jails, but due to general well meaning and a lack of resources, Castiel had combined the male and female rehabilitation programs. It worked well. 

Mostly.

“If you touch my ass again I’ll shove my fist so far down your throat I’ll be able to tell your religion, capisce?”

Castiel sighed but let the scene play out. It was best not to interrupt Claire while she was like this. And as long as she was just threatening the man, it should be fine.

“Whoa, relax, little lady,” said Ishim, hands up but leering with a smile. “We’re all cooped up in here, right? I’m just trying to make the best of it.”

Castiel could practically see the hair on Claire’s head arch up like an angry cat. He jumped in before her claws came out.

He flew over and landed lightly between them, pulling Ishim out of Claire’s fierce grip.

“Ishim, go meet with your counselor so they can talk to you about sexual harassment and why that behaviour is not acceptable in society. Okay?”

Ishim rolled his eyes but turned to leave. Not without throwing a wink at Claire first, though. Castiel had to physically catch her when she lunged after him.

“Claire, let’s take a walk,” he told her, carrying her away on his shoulder. He felt her rest her cheek against his left wing, grumbling moodily into his feathers.

They hadn’t even left the cafeteria when Castiel sensed someone falling into stride next to him. He was less than surprised to see Kaia – Claire’s cellmate/roommate and best friend – accompanying them.

Unlike many of the male prisoners, Castiel hadn’t grown up with these girls. For one, they were women and were taken from the women’s prison. For another, they were both barely adults.

Claire had been a runaway from the time she was 14, stealing and squatting just to scrape by. She was convicted of grand theft auto, but Castiel had no delusions that she’d been looking to make money off of the pastime. He strongly suspected she’d just been looking for a consistent place to sleep.

Kaia was one of the unfortunate cases of a homeless gay youth who’d gotten addicted to drugs. Castiel had been asking for near constant updates about her treatment, considering she was so young. Balthazar didn’t find her nearly as interesting as he did, but he followed orders. Castiel was glad to see she was improving.

Both of these girls were excellent examples of how the city and the system itself could fail its citizens. They didn’t deserve prison sentences, they deserved  _ help _ . Sure, Castiel’s system wasn’t perfect either – you got people like Ishim and Ruby who hadn’t committed violent crimes but were still actually terrible people. But Castiel would choose to give sanctuary to them if it meant people like Claire and Kaia could get the help they deserved.

Claire’s elbow was currently digging into his wing joint, Claire sulkily holding her face in her open hand. Her other hand, however, was held in Kaia’s, so Castiel couldn’t be too mad.

Once Castiel had made it to the courtyard, he hefted Claire off his shoulder and put her on a bench. Kaia followed silently after her, taking Claire’s hand back in hers. Castiel smiled at them before turning seriously to Claire.

“You know what a fight could do to you, Claire,” he told her, hands coming up to rest on his hips. “You get this chance because you’re non-violent. Violence could send you back to prison.”

“ _ You _ said I didn’t deserve to be in prison. That I was the ‘victim’.” She curled her lip at the word, revolted at anything that could mark her as weak. 

“You  _ are _ ,” Castiel insisted, although his nose also crinkled at the word, “or at the very least, you’re a casualty. Someone the system forgets.”

“Different word, same sentiment.”

Castiel sucked his lips into his mouth. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Um,” Kaia started. Castiel immediately turned his attention to her. She rarely spoke to him, not having the same amount of steel in her spine as Claire. “Bold Defiance? Mr. Defiance?”

“You can call me Castiel.”

Kaia looked shocked, her eyes snapping up to his before immediately dropping back to her hand in Claire’s.

“Uh, Mr. Castiel,” Castiel’s mouth twitched. Claire snorted. “Don’t get mad, but I don’t think your plan is really working.”

Castiel felt a flash of anger. Didn’t these people understand he was doing this for  _ them _ ?! How could they claim it wasn’t working if they weren’t even trying?

But Castiel looked back at Kaia who just looked so tired and defeated. He deflated immediately.

“I have been hearing that, yes.” He sighed, exhaling with all of the bitterness he’d accumulated over the day. He sunk to the ground so he was looking up at them rather than the reverse. His wings came around him to settle in his lap. “Why do you think that is?”

Kaia exhaled, her shoulders losing some of the tension they’d had. “Were you ever in any of the stupid classes in school?”

Castiel tipped his head. “Stupid classes?”

“Yeah,” Kaia peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Like you knew everyone in your class was dumber than all the other classes. They put all the dumb kids in the same class so the teachers knew they didn’t have to waste too much effort on them and could focus on the smart classes. Because it wasn’t like the dumb kids were ever going to get less dumb, right?”

Castiel blinked and shook his head, horrified. “No, I can’t say I have. Was your school really like that? That’s terrible.”

She nodded, Claire brought her other hand forward to squeeze Kaia’s in both of hers. Kaia slanted a soft smile at her.

“Yeah, I was in the dumb class. It was like this vicious cycle: the teachers didn’t think we could do better so they didn’t try. And we  _ felt _ dumb so we didn’t try which only reinforced our teachers’ opinions that we were too dumb to learn.” She shrugged, lopsided. “Once you’re labeled a lost-cause, it’s hard to come back from that.”

“That’s horrible, Kaia.” Castiel wished he could comfort her in some way, but he knew she would only clam up at his touch. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“Yeah… but not so much with the past-tense.”

He tilted his head again. She huffed a humorless laugh.

“All of us here in the program are the dumb kids, Castiel. Almost all of your teachers and counselors and all of the people on the outside already think we’re lost-causes. They don't think we can improve. So why should we try?”

  
  


This was all Castiel’s fault. He’d doomed these poor people into these lives because, although he’d had a righteous plan, he hadn’t implemented it correctly. He’d forced things – he’d used power and intimidation to move things forward too quickly in a way no one was prepared for and now he’d probably screwed up his plan of rehabilitation forever.

He was so angry at himself. He was angry at the city. He was angry at Anna for not backing him up when he needed it and then  _ leaving _ him.

He hadn’t meant to kill her. That had never been his plan. He needed her, if not in the city, at least in the world. With her dead, there was no way she could ever come around. No way they could ever resolve their differences and be friends. There was nothing.

He stripped his jerkin and took off from the rehab facility which was actually just an abandoned shopping mall just off the highway. Castiel had put glamours up, making it look more like an institution of healing and reform, but in the dead of night, when the solar energy that powered the spells were at their weakest, the building was just visible underneath as what it was – a remnant of optimism and capitalistic gain.

He left it behind him, flying fiercely toward the Institute of Heroism. Anna may not be around anymore, but there was still her exhibit. He hadn’t taken anything down. Maybe he could glean some inspiration. Or comfort.

He landed at the steps of the Institution, the feet of Anna’s statue imposingly solid. 

The statue was almost as tall as the museum itself. Castiel knew Anna had been offered the museum for herself, for her achievements alone, but she’d turned it down. She’d told them they hadn’t needed a Guardian museum: She’d wanted a place that inspired people to be heroes in their own way. It was unrealistic to believe anyone could be The Guardian. 

Castiel scowled. Yes, unrealistic indeed.

He flapped his wings a few times until he was level with her face, the statue’s hand extended before her as if to welcome visitors to the museum. Or as if she were offering something to the city’s citizens.  _ Would you like some peace? Would you like some feeling of safety? I have some for you right here. _

Castiel landed in her hand, sitting in her open palm with his legs folded beneath him. He stared at her stone face and marked the differences from the real life model. They’d made her face too symmetrical, her nose too cute and buttony. Anna had had a strong, straight nose. The kind of nose that had never been broken but could take your eye out if she lunged at you too quickly. It was a hero’s nose.

They’d sculpted her smiling, but it wasn’t Anna’s smile. For one, Anna’s smile was crooked. Castiel had always assumed it was the result of a bumpy landing when she’d crashed to earth as he had. For another, the smile didn’t reach the eyes like only Anna’s true smile did. Not that her other smiles were insincere – Anna could never be insincere – but she had a smile of default, one she used to make people comfortable, to make her face look more welcoming. Anna’s real smile happened when she was amused. When she was happy. It’s something Castiel had seen in the heat of combat, Anna thrilling at the challenge. It was true, this fire-less smile was appropriate for a welcoming statue but it wasn’t the one Castiel wanted to see right now.

Looking at the imperfect but still familiar face, Castiel allowed himself to feel his grief for the first time. He let himself mourn – he let the guilt and anger consume him for just a moment. He would get all of these bad feelings out completely later – curl up in his nest and feel all of these useless negative emotions – so he could get to the place where he could accept things for what they were and move forward. But right now he just wanted to take a moment to miss his friend.

Because they’d been friends. They hadn’t seen eye to eye on most issues, they had different methods and outlooks, but they’d understood each other. They were both refugees, both outsiders. Neither knowing how they fit into this city, neither knowing what to do with the terrible power they’d been given as children to be the last of their planets. Their nurturing was different, but their nature had been the same.

Castiel hoped Anna understood that. He hoped she’d known, even as he was murdering her, that he’d never meant her harm.

If only intention ever mattered.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been looking for when he’d come here. He didn’t think he got it. But he knew he was done.

He stood, shooting the large tribute of his largest frenemy one last perfunctory nod, before stepping into the air and sinking to the ground, his descent slowed by his extended wings.

Not slowed enough, however. He landed with a harder impact than was probably good for him and he hissed a string of expletives as he felt the twinge in his knees.

“Hello?” called a voice from the other side of the Institute. “Is someone there?”

Castiel froze for only a second – long enough for him to register the voice as Dean’s – before he started swearing even more, limping as quickly as he could over to the doors to the museum so he could hide.

Of course, the doors were locked.

“Are you okay? I heard something hit the ground and then a lot of ‘fucks.’”

Castiel bit back another string of swears as Dean’s voice drew closer. He flipped through his quick-cast spell bracelets to see if he had anything useful. He could summon rats (maybe…), he could amplify his voice (the opposite of helpful), he could put Dean to sleep (he wasn’t close enough).

Castiel plucked on a silver strand of one of his emergency cloaking spells and said a quick activation, hoping it would turn him into a bumble bee or something. Not that he would actually  _ be _ a bumble bee, he would just look like one, but the difference didn’t matter at the moment.

What mattered was that Dean was rounding the corner and he needed very much not to look like himself.

It appeared to have worked, thank the moon, because when Dean saw him he wasn’t immediately revolted or horrified. A frown creased his face with lack of recognition before he stepped forward with a smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Castiel was sure his face appeared petrified, whatever face it was. Based on context clues, it was probably a human face. He should try and use a human voice.

“It’s not you.” Oh, his voice sounded higher. Not that that was difficult, with Castiel’s deep gravel. But this voice was higher and definitely still male. “I  thought you were a bird. I find birds… unsettling.”

Dean smiled brighter, friendly, just a bit of amusement peeking out behind his eyes. Castiel had never seen anyone so friendly toward him. “Well, I doubt you’d find a safer place in the city, even from birds.”

Castiel’s laugh was tight and forced even to his own ears but Dean didn’t comment on it.

“Any specific reason you’re here? Even with all the… birds?’”

Castiel tensed briefly before remembering that he didn’t look like himself. He could be honest. It wouldn’t be weird for any normal citizen to want to pay their respects.

“I think I just missed her.” He looked down and swallowed, hoping beyond hope that admitting this wouldn’t inspire Dean to start bad mouthing Bold Defiance.

But Dean did no such thing. “Yeah, I get that.”

Castiel half expected him to say something more. Something about how Anna’s loss was a loss for the whole city or how evil Bold Defiance was for taking her away from them.

But he said nothing. Just looked at Castiel with a half sort of smile on his face.

It was too soft. Castiel needed an exit strategy.

He stuck out his hand and introduced himself with the first fake name he could think of. “Hello, my name is Steve.”

Dean hesitated, a flash of something passing over his eyes, before gripping Castiel’s hand. “Dean.”

Castiel nodded once, of course knowing that already, but as he was playing a stranger to Dean, accepting this introduction as if he hadn’t already known. He squeezed Dean’s hand. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean nodded back, a baffling combination of suspicion and amusement twisting his mouth. “Hello, Steve.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand back.

Castiel wished he could stand here exchanging hand squeezes with Dean all afternoon but he was attempting to emulate a normal human so he stopped, letting go of Dean’s hand and trying to hold his arm naturally at his side. How did he usually hold his arms? Did Castiel carry his arms the way normal humans did? Why hadn’t he considered this before?

He cleared his throat. “So, what brings  _ you _ out at this time of day, Dean?”

Dean’s mouth was still set in that smirk, but he turned his body so Castiel could only see the corner of it. “Mostly the same as you, Steve.” The way Dean said his name – or his fake name – made it sound like he was saying something else. “Although I guess I miss the  _ idea _ of the Guardian more than the actual person. I didn’t really know her.”

This was a confusing statement on two counts. For one: of course Dean knew Anna. He’d interviewed her several time and they’d been spotted out to lunch together on many occasions. There was a reason Castiel had always chosen Dean as his hostage and it wasn’t because of Dean’s beautiful eyes, mouth, and freckles. Castiel had never even  _ noticed _ the many attractive and desirable parts of Dean’s face and body. No, Castiel had always abducted Dean because it had been rumored that he and Anna were involved and this would therefore be a devastating blow to Anna and a worthwhile piece of leverage. So of course Dean knew her, he had to have.

The second reason Dean telling him he hadn’t known Anna was odd because it implied that Castiel  _ had _ . Which, he of course had but  _ Steve _ had not. Or even if he had, why would Dean assume that? Why would Dean assume Steve, this person he’d just met outside the Institute of Heroism, had a closer relationship with The Guardian than he had?

Before Castiel could puzzle over the puzzling tidbit for too long, Dean continued.

“No, I really came for the other exhibits.” He flashed a cheeky grin at Castiel. “‘What makes a hero a hero?”

Castiel frowned. “Well I think doing good deeds, for starters.”

“That’s a good start,” Dean chuckled. Castiel was mesmerized. He’d never seen Dean so joyful; it was a little disorienting. “But there’s that saying: no good deed goes unpunished. I think it might be a little more complicated than that.”

Dean spoke casually but there was something in his words that made Castiel think they were chosen carefully. His brain had caught on something Dean had said.

_ “What makes a hero a hero?” _

There was something there, he knew it.

But Dean was still talking, distracting him.

“You’ve got people with bravery, strength, and determination – all the trappings of an all-American hero – but without conviction, the belief that they’re a hero, they won’t go very far.”

Castiel knew that better than anyone. He tried being a hero but with no one there to believe he was, there was only so much he could do.

“No, it’s not about what you’re born with.” Dean waved a hand dismissively. “Heroes aren’t born, they’re made.”

_ “Heroes aren’t born, they’re made.” _

_ “What makes a hero a hero?” _

Castiel knew what he had to do.

“You know what, you’re right,” Castiel said decisively, taking steps forward so he was out of the door frame. Dean jerked back, startled. “You know, Dean, you’ve really made me feel better. Thank you for your wise words and your kindness. I must be off now, Bye.”

Castiel turned and walked briskly around the building, not able to take off while Dean could still see him but desperately needing to fly home as soon as possible.

Because he was forming a new plan. He couldn’t be the new superhero this city wanted.

But maybe he could make one.

  
  


“Jack! Who am I right now?”

Castiel had been able to fly home with his glamour still on. His wings were still there, they were just invisible. It was a very Anna moment.

“You are currently wearing the face of one Aaron Bass!” Jack answered unquestioningly. “We took his image with the Rune of Amarath from the Jewish community center, remember? We thought he looked sweet and nonthreatening.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Castiel headed to a mirror and saw the brown hair, cut beard, and soft and crooked jaw. A very sweet face.

He’d have to make a lot of these.

In the meantime, he ripped off the current band and burned it, watching in the mirror as the glamour melted away.

The pale skin tanned, the beard and shirt dissolved, the hair grew longer and wild and the eyes flashed blue. Wings suddenly manifested, their black looming presence drawing focus.

Castiel scowled. Twas the wings no one could overlook. Otherwise, he might have passed as normal as a kid.

For a few years, while he was still honing his witchcraft, he had seriously considered keeping the wings under constant glamour. There were ways to make sure his wings were always invisible – even mostly intangible so he could wear real shirts. He’d still be able to fly, like Anna, but he wouldn’t be so intimidating all the time. He could be mostly normal.

He didn’t end up doing this, of course. For one, the magic was hideously complicated and he did not have the time nor the required vanity to expend all the effort in working it out.

For another, he felt it would be disrespectful. Here he was, the last Garrisonian, and he was considering stripping a piece of himself, a piece of his heritage, and for what? So a bunch of narrow-minded earthlings would like him? Was it worth that?

Castiel decided no. He liked his wings, even if they were inconvenient.

It didn’t mean he didn’t resent them still, on occasion. How easy it must be to be able to walk into a department store and buy clothing that you knew would fit? How cozy it must be to be able to just throw on a hoodie when you were cold instead of relying on warming charms and snuggies. How refreshing and humanizing it must be to have someone look at your face instead of staring in disgust or fascination at the giant feathery appendages extending from your back.

But, it was as the earthlings said: “Don’t go chasing waterfalls.”

There was nothing to be done. Best to move on.

“Jack, I have a new plan,” Castiel announced, letting his wings carry him to his companion like a dramatic spectre. “We’re going to make a hero.”

“Okay!” Jack said brightly.

Castiel bit back a sigh. “Don’t you want to know  _ why? _ ”

Jack shrugged. “Sure, boss. If you feel like monologuing.”

Castiel  _ did _ feel like monologuing. He still scowled at Jack’s enthusiastic sincerity. He would have liked to maintain  _ some _ mystique.

“I’ve realized that good deeds can only be good if they’re supported by the people,” he began, sweeping through the studio, as if he were playing to more than just Jack. “No matter what I do, the people will only see it the way they want to. None of my ventures can succeed when it’s me at the helm. It’s like what Sam WInchester said: we need resources. Resources that can only be seized by a hero. I will never be the people’s hero.”

“But!” he continued, turning suddenly so he was facing Jack. “What if there was a hero? Someone who the people could trust. That hero could push through my policies and make those changes I’ve been desperate to make and they would have support from the people  _ and _ city hall.”

Jack frowned. “But why would we need a whole new hero for that? Couldn’t you just cloak yourself into  _ looking _ like a hero? OR! You could make a  _ villain _ and then defeat that villain and then the people will trust you and think you’re a hero!”

Castiel scowled again. This really wasn’t meant to be a call and response thing. He was trying to monologue.

But Jack had some valid points. 

“I thought about cloaking myself. But there are too many risks. What if the glamour were to be exposed? They would never trust a hero again! And then where would we be? Also, I need to exist as myself for the hero to bounce off of – that way the public will know  _ they’re _ the hero. The enemy of my enemy and all that.”

Jack nodded, accepting this reasoning immediately. “Okay, I get that. Deceit isn’t the best way to gain trust. But then why can’t you make a villain?”

“Well, for one, I don’t want any  _ actual _ obstacles. This is hard enough to pull off, I don’t need someone trying to thwart me.” Castiel shuddered at the thought. “For another, I can’t bring a villain into this city. I’m trying to  _ protect  _ this city. They’re lucky they’ve had  _ me _ as their villain for so long – I never wanted to do any actual damage.”

Jack nodded again. “Great points, boss. But how are we supposed to make a hero?”

“Excellent question, Jack!” Castiel grinned, glad to get back to his original monologue. “I’ve been told that what makes a hero is bravery, strength, and determination. But we both know that to actually make a difference and get the public to love you, you need that extra something.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to find someone with bravery, strength, and determination – we’ve got a whole rehab facility full of volunteers just like that!”

“Like Sam Winchester!”

“ **_We are not using Sam Winchester!_ ** _ ”  _

Jack leaned back in his chair, hands up in an ‘okay, jeeze’ kind of gesture. Castiel took a deep breath, trying to recover from his brief outburst, before getting back on task.

“So  _ I _ will make a shortlist of possible heroic candidates. In the meantime, we need to focus on coming up with a spell that can transfer Anna’s powers to our new hero. It shouldn’t be too difficult: all we’ll need is a couple lizard tails, cedar, myrrh, some runes, crystals, I’ll drop a feather in, and we’ll get some of Anna’s organic matter.”

Jack choked. “Organic matter? Her body was incinerated.”

Castiel waved it away. “I’m sure she has hair or something at her clubhouse, it’s fine.”

“And you know where her clubhouse is?”

“No, of course not.” Castiel shrugged. “But I’ll figure it out! For now, we should focus on getting the spell right.”

Jack shook his head before stopping, humming in thought.

“Hang on, boss… didn’t you cut off some of The Guardian’s hair in the big sword battle three years ago?”

Castiel grimaced. He hadn’t known what made him believe he would be able to best Anna in ceremonial combat of the blade. “Yes. What about it?”

“Do you think there might be some still stuck to the sword?”

Castiel snorted. “That was three years ago, Jack, what would make you possibly think–”

“Yup, there’s some right here!”

Castiel swung his head around to see Jack using two fingers to tug a strand of red hair off of the sabre that was hung on the wall.

“Huh.” Castiel shrugged his mouth. “Okay then. Let’s get to work.”

  
  


It took a couple of days of working around Castiel’s rehab obligations and finding the right balance of herbs and crystals, but Castiel was getting ready to call his recruit.

There was a sudden knock on the warehouse doors.

Castiel jumped, his wings coming around to shield him on instinct.

“Jack, what is that?”

“A knock, boss.”

“Why is someone knocking on the door of our super secret studio?”

“You gave out the address to your volunteers in case they had questions, boss.”

Castiel swore. He’d forgotten about that.

Yes, the need for secrecy wasn’t as imperative anymore without their villainous intent, and he did need to be available to his staff at all times, but–

Why did all times have to be  _ right now _ ?

“What do I do?”

“Go answer it?”

Castiel very much did not want to answer it.

“Which ward is over the front door?”

Jack pointed to an oblong engraving on the wall.

Castiel flew over to it, touching it with his hand and muttering the farsight spell. In front of his eyes came an image of the front stoop, like a security camera. And there, standing on the welcome mat, was Dean Winchester.

“It’s Dean!” Castiel shrieked, trying to be quiet so Dean wouldn’t hear them. “Why is Dean here?! How is Dean here?”

“I imagine Sam told him where to find you,” Jack answered, bluntly.

“But why?”

“You could go ask him?”

Castiel straightened. Jack was right – he could go ask him.

He just needed that glamour back.

“Rune of Amarath,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

He heard Jack sigh but he manifested the stone and tossed it at him. Castiel caught it, holding it over one of his unspelled bracelets and activated it. He was Aaron Bass again.

Or, to Dean, he was Steve again.

He flew out the window, landing in the alley next to the warehouse, and rounded the corner, acting surprised to see Dean there.

“Dean? My goodness, what a coincidence.” 

Dean startled, clearly not expecting to be approached from that direction. He looked at Castiel. his eyes squinting as he struggled to bring up a name and then. “Oh… Steve?”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile to think Dean remembered him. Or… not him but…

You get it.

“Yes, that’s me. Steve.” He splayed his hands, presenting himself. Or rather, the image of Aaron Bass. “To run into you here, wow. What a crazy random happenstance.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, super random.”

Castiel forced a laugh. “So what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dean said, mouth still twitching.

_ Please don’t _ , Castiel begged, internally.

Dean laughed as if he could read that thought on his face. Which was odd as Castiel had been told he’d had a mean poker face.

“Bold Defiance lives here,” Dean told him, hand sweeping out as if to display the giant warehouse turned studio. “I came to talk to him a bit.”

“Why would you want to talk to him?” Castiel asked him, careful to hold back the desperate and honest curiosity he had with this question. “Didn’t he kidnap you all those times?”

Dean smiled a private smile. “I’m told it’s called ‘abducting’ when you take an adult. Kidnapping is only for children.” Castiel bit his lip. He remembered telling Dean that. “And, yeah, sort of. I feel like that gives us a connection.”

Castiel was more confused. What did ‘sort of’ mean? He very much had abducted Dean all those times. But, “For what do you need a ‘connection’ with Bold Defiance?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ll let him know when I talk to him.”

Well that was never happening. Castiel had vowed to never speak to Dean again. At least, not as himself.

“Right,” Castiel answered sceptically. “So…”

But Castiel was saved from having to continue by a different voice down the alleyway. “Dean?”

Dean tensed for a brief moment before sighing. “Yeah, Crowley, over here.”

Castiel frowned as he watched a short, stout man approach them. When he spoke, he had an English accent. So in that way, he was rather like a teapot.

“There you are, love. Was wondering where you’d got to.”

_ Love? _ Why was this random man calling Dean ‘love’? Was that just a British thing? Was Dean seeing this man?

Dean rolled his eyes. “Relax, Crowley, I just knocked on the door. I would have called if I needed you.”

That didn’t serve to clear anything up. Castiel found himself looking from Dean back to Crowley, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Crowley seemed to notice him for the first time. “Who’s this?”

Dean looked over at Castiel, his mouth twitching again. “This is… Steve. I met him at the Institute of Heroism the other day.”

Crowley hummed in an unfriendly way. Castiel bristled.

Dean kept smirking but he rolled his eyes again. “Steve, this is Crowley. He’s my cameraman.”

That’s all he said. Cameraman.

“He called you ‘love’?”

Dean snorted. Crowley narrowed his eyes at him.

“This is my  _ annoyingly involved _ cameraman.” Dean’s smirk seemed rather pointed. “He’s just British, we’re not dating.”

Castiel nodded, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

It didn’t interest him if Dean was seeing someone. What did it matter to him if Dean was with this short, pompous man?

Although looking at Crowley from this close made Castiel realize that he was about the same height, cloaked as he was as Aaron Bass.

He scowled, matching the scowl Crowley was currently giving him.

Dean laughed. “Okay, boys, calm down.” He grinned, winking at Castiel. Castiel blinked back. Dean sighed. “Well I don’t think we’re going to get an interview today so–”

The door swung open with the appropriately dramatic amount of creaking hinges. Jack, on the other side, had changed into a black polo shirt and khakis. It must have been a glamour: Castiel doesn’t even know where he would have gotten them. 

“Oh, hello!” Jack said, his eyes wide as if he hadn’t expected them all to be here. Castiel saw right through him. “Welcome to the Defiance household. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Castiel had no idea what Jack was doing. Jack knew who Dean was and Dean knew who Jack was, Jack being the one to abduct him most of the time. But here they were acting like strangers. Why had Jack opened the door at all? Castiel glared at him.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, eyes darting from Castiel to Jack. “Is Bold Defiance in?”

Jack looked around the doorway as if expecting to see Castiel somewhere in the room behind it. Castiel would definitely need to work with him on his acting.

“Hmmm, nope, he’s not here right now. Probably off being a civil servant at that ambitious public reform facility he founded.” Crowley snorted, and Castiel turned his glare from Jack to him, turning back to Jack with a softer expression. “Anything I can help you with?”

“And who are you? The winged freak’s kept boy?”

Castiel choked, turning very red, but Jack either didn’t know what that meant or had more professionalism than Castiel gave him credit for because he just smiled, politely, and answered. “My name’s Jack. I’m his assistant and oldest friend. Is there something you needed?”

Dean cleared his throat, breaking the intense eye contact Jack had been holding with Crowley. “No, thanks, Jack. I think we’ll just wait until he gets back. Should we schedule an appointment?”

This was all very formal for someone who had been a hostage every time they’d seen him before this. Castiel was having a hard time believing any of this was actually happening.

“Sure!” Jack beamed. “But why don’t you come inside? You can look around and, hey, who knows? Maybe the boss will turn up.” Here he turned to grin at Castiel who swore at him fluently inside his own head.

He and Jack didn’t have a psychic link anymore, having outgrown it when they’d reached full maturity, but Castiel knew Jack could tell what he was thinking. Jack grinned wider.

“Great!” Crowley cheered, clapping his hands together. “I’ll go fetch the camera then, shall I?”

“Um–” Castiel started to object but there was really nothing he could say. Not as Steve.

“Are you sure that would be okay?” Dean asked, eyes darting from Jack to Castiel again. “We wouldn’t wanna impose–”

“Nonsense!” Jack said, extending his arms. “We’ve got nothing to hide! And besides,” Jack turned to Castiel, again. “with all the work Bold Defiance is doing to build a better community, he wouldn’t want to think the public couldn't trust him. Getting to peek inside his life is an  _ excellent _ way to humanize him to the people.” He turned back to Dean, sweetly. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, eyes still darting between them. “That was kind of why I wanted to do this in the first place.”

“Wait, really?” Castiel asked, because  _ wait, really???? _

Dean nodded. “Yeah. My brother Sammy has been working with him. And if Sammy trusts him, he can’t be all bad, right?”

Castiel swallowed. “Sure.”

“Good!” Jack said. Crowley had just arrived with the camera, propped sturdily on his shoulder. Jack clapped his hands in front of him once. “Then should we start with the tour?”

The tour went about as well as expected.

That was to say, it was completely fine and Dean was nothing if not the perfect guest, asking interested questions and complimenting things through the entire tour, but Castiel’s anxiety was at an eleven the entire time.

He tried very hard not to make it weird but there’s only so non-weird someone could be when they were taking a tour of their own home and two of the three other members of his party didn’t know he was him.

And more than that, a significant amount of his focus was spent making sure Dean didn’t accidentally collide with his wings. They were still tangible, they could still knock into things, and normally that wasn’t a problem when Castiel was just moving through his own space.  _ Dean _ , however, seemed hell bent on orbiting around him, nearly knocking against Castiel’s wings even while he was keeping them very tightly tucked.

Castiel was becoming far too familiar with the intimate feeling of Dean brushing against his tertial feathers, which shouldn’t even be possible. It was a nightmare. 

Castiel chose to blame this distraction and nothing else for not keeping a close enough eye on Crowley. And, therefore, not seeing Crowley approach and  _ knock over _ the bowl of spell ingredients that was supposed to make the next Guardian.

The clatter of the bowl was almost drowned out by Crowley’s swearing, only silenced when he stuck his finger in his mouth, as if sucking on a cut.

Castiel rushed over, grabbing Crowley’s wrist and yanking his hand out of his mouth. “ _ Please _ tell me you didn’t draw blood.”

“What’s it to you?” Crowley grunted, pulling his finger back into his mouth. “I think we’ve gotten all we can, Winchester. Let’s get out of here.”

“But–” Dean started before looking at Jack, who was supposed to be their host. The horror on Jack’s face convinced him not to continue to object. “Yeah, okay. Want me to walk you out, Steve?”

“No, thank you, Dean.” Castiel turned horrified eyes to Jack, not looking at Dean as he continued. “I think I’ll ask this nice young man to let me use his restroom. I’ll catch up with you outside?”

Dean nodded, looking concerned but not like he was going to ask. Castiel was grateful for that. He had no idea what to say but he needed to talk to Jack alone  _ right now _ .

He only just barely waited for Dean’s and Crowley’s footsteps to fade, hearing the creak of the hinges as the door slammed shut, before he staggered to the bowl on the floor, hands carefully picking over the broken and scattered ingredients.

“He bled on it, he definitely bled on it, God that  _ dick _ .”

Castiel was breathing very heavily, uselessly pulling everything together in a pile, his hands shaking.

“It’s only going to work on him now. We could put this spell together a million times but it won’t work unless we use fucking  _ Crowley _ . Who even is he?”

Jack was already listening to the magical frequencies, his finger pressed to his ear as he divined the information from the universe. The first time he’d done this around Dean, Dean had called it ‘Angel Radio’, whatever that meant.

“His name is Fergus Crowley, 44. He grew up in England with a single mother, moved here for university in LA and just stayed here, bouncing around different news stations across the country working as a cameraman. He’s currently a cameraman at the news station Dean works at. They’ve been partnered together for the last five years.”

“Do we know anything about his hopes? Dreams? Ambitions?”

Jack listened harder, his face scrunching from the strain, before shrugging, helplessly. “Nothing. He seems content to just… trudge along.”

Castiel sighed, disappointed. How could they have a hero without the building blocks of a hero? Without the bravery, strength, and determination?

But… hang on… they didn’t need a hero. They just needed someone the people might  _ think _ was a hero. They needed a puppet. Who made for a better puppet than someone with no ambition?

“You know, Jack?” Castiel said, softly, coming to a stand. “This could maybe work.”

Jack looked positively alarmed. “Boss?”

Crowley wouldn’t actually receive any of Anna’s power until Castiel recited the words to the spell. He could go the rest of his life as a normal, short, stocky, British cameraman.

But Castiel  _ needed _ him.

They didn’t have the time to come up with a different plan, they didn’t have any better options. Castiel didn’t wait. 

He lit a flame, dropped it in the remains of the ingredients on the floor, and said the spell.

“Boss!”

But it was too late. They heard Dean’s yell from outside. Crowley had just fallen unconscious.

“He’ll be knocked out for twelve hours as his body works over the magic,” Castiel said, watching the flame burn out instead of looking at his terrified companion. “I’ll go with Dean to get him home, and then I’ll check in to see how Dean is doing. I’ll find out what he wants, why he even came here.”

Castiel saw Jack slump in his peripheral vision. He heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah. Okay, boss.”

Castiel nodded decisively, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. “We’ve got this, Jack. We’ll meet Crowley tonight as he’s waking up. It’ll be better under the moon, anyway.”

Jack nodded weakly. Castiel clapped him on the shoulder again.

“Clean this up. I’ll see you later.”

  
  


“It’s just so crazy,” Dean was saying again, shaking his head as they made their way out of Crowley’s apartment building. They hadn’t really needed both of them to put him to bed, but Castiel wasn’t about to let him or Dean out of his sight. “I don’t think he has low blood sugar or anything. Do you know what could make him collapse like that?”

The question felt like a test but Castiel couldn’t see how. “A lot of things, I’m sure. Whatever it is, I expect he’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”

Dean shook his head again, his expression confusing. “Yeah, I guess.”

Castiel hummed, keeping close to Dean. Only so Dean wouldn’t accidentally walk into his wings. No other reason.

“Now that your cameraman is out of commision, I can’t imagine you’ll be able to do any more work today.”

Dean turned to look at him, his face turning back to that indulgent smirk he often used around Steve. “No, I imagine not.”

Castiel nodded, confirming what he’d expected. “In that case, since the rest of your afternoon is free, we could go for coffee. Or dinner. I’d love to hear more about this project you’re doing. About Bold Defiance.”

Dean’s smirk grew wider. He stopped walking completely, turning bodily toward Castiel and grabbing his arm. Castiel had to quickly flick his wing away to avoid Dean touching it. “Why, Steve... Are you asking me on a date?”

Castiel tensed, his eyes widening. He hadn’t meant to. It was not his intention to date Dean Winchester.

But… maybe he could do that. If that’s what Dean thought he was doing anyway. It was better than him being suspicious Castiel was fishing for information. This could be, what was it, a honeypot situation.

Castiel loved honeypots! The collection of honey was instrumental in the proper keeping of bees.

He straightened, pulling his arm until Dean’s grip slipped down to his hand which he squeezed.

“Yes. Let’s go on a date. Right now.”

Dean seemed surprised. It almost appeared as if he were trying to call Castiel’s bluff. 

Castiel did not bluff. Or if he did, no one would ever know. He had an incredible poker face.

Dean’s surprise turned to wonder. He shrugged, “Okay. Let’s go on a date.” 

 

Castiel wished he could say the ‘date’ went exactly as planned, with Dean spilling all his secret motives and Castiel remaining calm, cool, and collected.

That was not, however, how things had gone down.

Castiel had caught himself, again, laughing at a joke Dean had told. Not fake laughing to make him complicit in spilling his secrets, either. A real, genuinely amused laugh.

Things had gone terribly.

Things had gone so terribly that by the time the end of the night arrived, Castiel was still utterly confused about why Dean was pursuing an interview with Bold Defiance, and they had scheduled another date for the following Wednesday.

“So can I get your phone number?” Dean had asked him, doing this odd thing where his head was ducked so he had to look at Castiel through his eyelashes.

Castiel just blinked, ducking his head a bit so Dean could see him better. “I don’t have a phone. You could send a raven?”

Dean laughed. Castiel smiled back, even though he hadn’t been joking. The smiling had been conditioned into him over the course of the meal. Hopefully it wasn’t so ingrained in him that he could still break himself of it.

Instead of giving Dean a phone number or further communicating his seriousness about the raven, Dean and Castiel just agreed to meet at a local restaurant at 7pm.

Dean smiled, leaning up to kiss Castiel on the cheek.

A very small part of Castiel had a minor panic about Dean making physical contact with skin he wasn’t seeing but, as far as this glamour was concerned, a face was a face. Nothing would seem off to Dean.

The largest part of Castiel went very very quiet at the feeling of Dean’s lips against his face.

That is, until Dean pulled away, leaving with nothing but an “I’ll see you, Steve.”

And at the name ‘Steve’ everything in Castiel became very loud again.

  
  


Jack wouldn’t stop eyeing Castiel when he got back. Although, he seemed to be waiting for the right moment to say anything, because it wasn’t until much later that he asked, “So how’d it go?”

Castiel frowned, refusing to make eye contact. It had been hours since his and Dean’s ‘date’ and they were busy prepping for their meeting with Crowley. “Not as well as I’d hoped. I barely got any information about this project Dean’s doing.”

“But did you have fun?”

Castiel focused very closely on the spell bracelets he was collecting, just in case. “That’s not relevant to the mission.”

“That’s a yes.”

Castiel scowled, still not making eye contact, Jack snickered.

“Do we have enough lavender?”

Jack’s shit-eating grin fell into something softer. “Yes, boss, we have everything we might need.”

There was something unsaid in that. Perhaps it was something about how if this didn’t work it would be because they had a terrible subject and not because of anything Castiel might have done wrong. Perhaps it was that, no matter what happened here, Jack had faith everything would work out regardless. Perhaps it was that Jack had given up and embraced the inevitability of failure.

No matter what it was, Castiel found himself grateful that Jack hadn’t actually said it.

They flew over to Crowley’s apartment complex with Castiel carrying Jack on his back. Over the years, Jack had become an expert in flying through Castiel; slotting into place with his legs locked around Castiel’s hips and his hands firmly gripping Castiel’s trap muscles so as to remain in place but not get in the way of Castiel’s wings. It used to be that Castiel would just carry Jack in his arms everywhere, but Jack had developed a certain motion sickness from flying backwards.

They’d adapted.

Castiel landed on the fire escape, gesturing toward the window so Jack could climb off and open it as he caught his breath. Castiel had unlocked the window when he’d been here earlier with Dean, so the window glided smoothly open, allowing the both of them entry.

They still had an estimated twenty minutes left in their twelve-hour timeline before Crowley woke up, so Jack and Castiel got to work preparing their scene. Castiel had opted against a cloaking spell or disguise, deciding it would be best to have as much transparency in their plot as possible. Castiel wanted to be clear he was  _ not _ trying to be evil. He was hoping his honesty would appear to Crowley as his genuine desire to do good.

He could only hope.

They set up a kind of altar: lots of candles, specific herbs and roots scattered about (a  _ lot _ of lavender), and Castiel even summoned some cats to make the setup more comforting and majestic.

Crowley awakened with an almighty sneeze.

“Good Lord,” he moaned, sneezing again. His eyes were streaming when he opened them, blinking around. “What the hell are  _ you _ doing here? And why did you bring bloody  _ cats?! _ ”

Castiel blinked. “Everyone loves cats.”

“I’m  _ allergic _ to cats, you bloody psychopath.”

Castiel deflated. “Oh.” He turned to the congregated felines. “Sorry, comrades. Thank you for your service.”

A couple of the cats gave him judgemental looks, others rubbed against him in forgiveness, as they all made their way back out the window.

Castiel watched them, regretfully, before turning back to Crowley.

“To answer your other question, we’re here to help you.”

Crowley sneered. “And what would I need help with from  _ you? _ ”

Castiel bit back a grimace. He really was very rude.

It was with some impatience that Castiel answered him. “I don’t know if you  _ noticed _ , when you were plodding through my home, but you interfered with some very delicate spellwork.”

“The hell I did,” Crowley said, lifting his head defensively. “I didn’t touch anything.”

“You literally knocked an entire bowl over,  _ bleeding _ on it,” Jack interrupted, having even less patience than Castiel.

“And because,” Castiel started again, shooting a look at Jack, “you bled on it, the spell we were working on has been inextricably tied to you.”

The first workings of fear came into Crowley’s eyes. “What did you do to me?”

“Again,  _ you’re _ the one who interfered–”

“Jack,” Castiel sighed. Jack backed off, still glaring at Crowley. “Luckily, we weren’t working on anything bad. The opposite, in fact. We were working on a spell to infuse someone with the same powers as The Guardian.”

Crowley sat up straight, swinging around so his feet were hanging off the bed, his eyes wide. “I have the same powers as The Guardian?” His eyes narrowed as quickly as they’d widened. “Why were you doing that? What are you playing at?”

Castiel repressed the eye roll he was so steadily building. “Nothing nefarious, I assure you. We were simply trying to create a hero. Someone behind whom the city could rally.”

Crowley sneered again. “Wasn’t that hero supposed to be you?”

It was Castiel who narrowed his eyes this time. The longer he spoke to Crowley, the more he regretted that it was this man who they’d made their hero. 

He took a deep breath, exhaling the bad energy Crowley seemed to be trying so hard to feed. “In an ideal scenario, yes. I would like for the city to trust me. That does not seem possible, however, even with the best of intentions.

“This is why we need you, Fergus.” Crowley twitched. Castiel had hoped using his first name would endear Crowley to him; he appeared to have been wrong. “Crowley,” he tried again. “I could never get The Guardian to back my ideas, and  _ that’s _ why the people and the city council are so resistant to them. But maybe, if a  _ new _ hero were to come in and support me, the city would follow.”

Crowley leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The introduction of alien powers hadn’t changed his outward appearance, much. His hair was a little fuller, and he’d muscled up a bit, but he wasn’t any taller. That cheered Castiel a bit, he wasn’t going to lie.

“So… you’d like me to be your mascot?” Castiel waited, not agreeing or disagreeing with this statement. “What’s in it for me?”

Castiel blinked, not sure why he hadn’t expected this question. What could he offer Crowley aside from the powers he now already had? What could he say beyond ‘The peace of mind of the citizens when they think they have a hero again’ or ‘Doing something for the common good’ or ‘Being the face of a better future’?

Instead he said maybe one of the stupidest thing one  _ could _ say: “What do you want?”

Crowley’s eyes lit up for the first time. Even more than when he found out he had superpowers.

“I want, Mr. Defiance, a favor.”

“Okay….?” Castiel waited for Crowley to continue but he just shook his head.

“No, no. Not yet. I’m not sure what I’ll need yet. But when the time comes, I’ll need a favor from you. No questions asked.”

Castiel did not like the sound of that. He caught Jack’s look, Jack slowly shaking his head. ‘Don’t do it, Castiel. This is bad news and you know it.’

But what choice did Castiel have?

“Deal,” Castiel answered, ignoring the instant bad turn the energy in the room had taken. It didn’t mean anything, probably. “But now, it’s time to see what you can do. And I’ll teach you. We’ll make you into a hero.”

  
  


Cue hero montage!

Castiel spent weeks teaching Crowley how to use his inherited powers. There were flying lessons and tests of strengths and, of course, a costume fitting.

Crowley did not take to any of these tasks with enthusiasm. He was petulant and sarcastic and altogether unpleasant. How uncomfortable it was for Castiel to know he was their greatest hope.

In between shots of superhero training, imagine a variety of dates starring Dean Winchester and Steve. They went on long drives in Dean’s car, they went to bars, they went to apiaries to see the bees. Honeypot, indeed.

Castiel kept trying to gather what he could about Dean’s mission. Or, at least, he told himself he was trying. The truth was, Dean was very distracting. Dean was charming and funny and very very handsome, which Castiel always knew of course. But now that Castiel wasn’t cast in the role of villain, he found himself falling into the role of love interest, which was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

Sprinkled through the montage, there would probably be a couple frames of the times Castiel should have been at his criminal rehabilitation center. His most precious project, his baby. He dropped in a few times but wasn’t spending nearly the amount of time there that he should be. A couple of shots of Sam Winchester looking mournfully at Castiel’s empty desk. Claire and Kaia huddled together in the cafeteria, looking at the windows as if Castiel would swoop in at any minute.

The montage would end with Castiel presenting Crowley’s new costume and title to him, having worked on his brand extensively. The costume was white, like Anna’s, but with a spiral like a yellow flame in the middle. Except it was less of a spiral and more of a ‘G’.

“They’ll call you ‘Goliath’.” Castiel told him, presenting the fitted costume. There were accents of orange boots and cape to match the flames. “The ‘G’ will evoke similar feelings to the ‘Guardian’ and the imagery of a large figure will help the people feel protected.”

“Wasn’t Goliath the villain in that story?” Crowley asked, examining the costume almost disinterestedly. “Didn’t he defy the armies of God? Isn’t the point of that particular tale his miraculous defeat?”

Castiel scowled at him. Even if that had been an innocuous inquiry, Crowley’s stupid accent made it sound shitty and contrary.

“Goliath was a titanic figure. The point is that you are going to be a force to be reckoned with. Don’t worry about the name too much, okay? The rest of your PR will do the rest of the work.”

Crowley shrugged, using his super speed to change into his new costume. The effect was immediate. Even though Crowley was a shitty man with a bad attitude that Castiel had been dealing with for a month and a half, the image he struck was heroic.

Castiel was beyond relieved.

“Okay,” Castiel started, breathily, clapping his hands together once. “I think we’re ready to introduce you to the public. You remember the plan?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Of course. You use your hocus pocus to wreak a little havoc in the city, I go save everyone, make my statement, and the city adopts me as their new figurehead.”

Castiel’s eye twitched at ‘hocus pocus’ but he nodded. “Good. And make sure no one gets hurt! I’ll try and keep the chaos as unlikely to actually hurt anyone as possible but–”

“Yes, yes” Crowley waved his hand, dismissively. “I’ll be a hero, saving the day, blah blah blah.”

Castiel hated him. He really actually hated this man.

“Yes, that.” Castiel inhaled and exhaled. It was something he’s done hundreds of times over his tenure with Crowley. He never knew so much bad energy could build up so quickly. “We will regroup tomorrow to assess public reaction and make our next move. Remember, our ultimate next step is having you endorse the rehab program. It’s just figuring out how to get there that will take some finesse.”

“Right, right.” Crowley sighed, not even looking at Castiel but picking at his costume. “And, hey, depending how today goes, perhaps tomorrow is when I’ll be asking you for that favor.”

Castiel reeled back. “What?”

“You remember, darling,” Crowley grinned. It was not a happy grin. “That thing I asked for in exchange for all of this nonsense? That favor?”

Castiel nodded, reluctantly. “Yes, of course.” He hadn’t. He still wasn’t sure if agreeing to that was the best plan. “But do you really think it’s prudent to introduce something like that during such an important–”

“That’s  _ your _ problem,” Crowley told him, interrupting once again. “I’ll do what you want, as per our deal. But I have wants too, Castiel.” Castiel swallowed in disgust. This was the first time Crowley had ever called him by his name. “And you’ll help me get them. As per our deal.”

Castiel swallowed again, feeling decidedly wrong-footed. He was supposed to be the puppet master in this scenario. And yet, he had the feeling if he turned his head he’d see strings.

“Right,” Castiel said, feeling the energy of that statement cling to him like a greasy film. “As per our deal.”

  
  


It was a simple event.

A momentum spell, a freezing charm on the brakes, and there was a runaway train at 10am on a Tuesday.

Castiel liked the simple elegance of a runaway train. The potentiality for casualties was mostly limited to the people on the train and, when you had someone to save the train (and multiple magical failsafes besides) even that potentiality was all but eradicated. But the fear and drama of a train shooting free and dangerously on its own tracks – there was nothing like it. It was so clean. Almost beautiful.

Castiel was very proud of this plan.

They let the train go for a while, letting it build speed and spectacle and have the people truly desperate for a rescue. Castiel had told Crowley it needed to be a save with fanfare. No sudden stops, so as to prevent whiplash, but he couldn’t just slow the train down on its tracks. He needed to polar express it: use ice breath to elevate the train OFF the elevated tracks and up a hill to slow the momentum. Use his super strength to lift the train, melt the ice with his laser eyes, and put the train back on the tracks at the station. Receive acclaim.

Everything went perfectly. Crowley could have been less sleazy and the train should have been saved sooner but, overall, Castiel was pleased. He gave Crowley the rest of the day off.

He regretted this the moment he met with Dean for dinner that evening only for Dean to tell him Crowley had abducted him.

“ _ What?! _ ” Castiel blurted, reaching for Dean’s hand, reflexively. “Are you okay?”

Dean smiled, all lips and eyes, patting Castiel’s hand where it grabbed his. “I’m fine. I’m kind of used to getting abducted by now, you know?” He winked.

Castiel grimaced.

“Still…” he started to pull his hand away, embarrassed and guilty, but Dean held it fast. Castiel wouldn’t make eye contact but smiled a very small smile at him. “What did he want?

Dean sighed, putting most of his weight on his elbows on the table. “Something stupid.” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn't really matter. What matters is that he’s like, super now.”

Castiel kept his face carefully blank. He’d never been able to fool Dean with it before but it was better than trying to fake a look of surprise. “Oh?”

Castiel’s expression didn’t really matter, anyway, because Dean wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah. He’s got The Guardian’s powers, I think. You saw the thing with the train today?”

Castiel nodded, carefully.

“Yeah, that was Crowley.” Dean snorted softly, shaking his head. He looked up at Castiel. “You know anything about that?”

Castiel blinked. But not too much. A normal amount of blinking. “Why would I know something?”

Dean shook his head again, pulling his hand away. “Sure.”

Dean shuffled, flexing his shoulder and folding his hands on the table. The energy abruptly changed. Castiel sat back, his wings invisibly coming up in a defensive position.

“Look… Steve… I feel like this has gone on long enough.”

A brief wind ruffled the tablecloth as Castiel’s wing flicked in surprise. “You’re breaking up with me?”

Dean laughed. “Breaking up? Are we even dating?”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, found he couldn’t, and closed it.

Dean’s eyes were softer than they had any right to be with the absolute devastation he unleashed with his next words. “I don’t think you can be dating someone who has been lying to you the whole time.”

Castiel tensed. His wings came up and back so fast they knocked into a waiter who clutched his notepad, very startled and confused.

“And that’s not what I meant, by the way,” Dean continued. “I’m not ‘breaking up’ with you. I meant, Castiel, let’s end this charade.”

Castiel froze outright. He had no idea what to do.

He just sat there. While Dean reached over and felt at his wrist. As Dean pulled off a bracelet and held it over the flame of the candle. He sat there as his glamour completely dissolved, leaving him shirtless and winged in the middle of the restaurant.

Dean swore, his eyes roving over Castiel’s chest. “Jesus, you didn’t even put on a shirt?”

“I can’t wear one while I’m flying,” Castiel answered automatically, blinking out of his panicked paralysis. His eyes darted to the other patrons, taking in their fear and whispering. He pulled his wings around their table, shielding them from view.

He leaned forward, reaching out with a hand but pulling it back at the last second. “Dean, I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Dean answered, smile sharp. “That’s not what I need to know right now. Right now, I need to know a) what’s going on with Crowley and b) why the hell it looks like you abandoned your prisoners project.”

Castiel jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “I didn’t abandon them. I’m doing this  _ for _ them.”

“What is  _ this _ ? What have you been up to?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer but was distracted by someone brushing on the outside feathers of his wings. “One moment,” he told Dean. He lifted the wing, uncovering their poor, overwhelmed waiter. “Can we help you?”

The waiter swallowed. He turned his eyes to his notepad, his hands shaking. “It’s just, uh, Mr. Defiance. Sir. We have a dress code and, uh, you’re not wearing a shirt?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. The waiter backed away, hands up.

“Actually, never mind. It’s fine, you’re fine, I’ll just–”

Dean sighed. “Jeeze, Cas, spare this poor kid.” Dean turned to the waiter with an apologetic smile. “We’ll leave. We’re sorry, really.” He threw down a roll of cash that probably more than covered the cost of their meal. “Thank you for your service. I’ll leave you a good review on yelp.”

Dean stood, grabbing Castiel by his arm and leading him out of the restaurant.

Castiel was stuck on Dean calling him ‘Cas.’

They made it out to the street, Dean looking around at the surrounding buildings. “Should have thought this through,” he muttered to himself. “How did I expect to have a conversation with you in public when you look like this?”

Castiel’s wings curled around him, protectively. He didn’t mind how he looked but it was still hurtful for Dean to basically call him a freak right to his face.

He was, apparently, not freakish enough, though, for Dean to have a problem with throwing an arm around his shoulders and demanding he take flight.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked, arm going around Dean’s waist on instinct alone.

Dean pulled himself closer. “Take me up. You know, like on a rooftop. We need to talk and I’m not patient enough to go somewhere more private. A rooftop is private enough.”

Castiel had no idea how to answer that. He had no idea how to answer anything. His mind was very much focused on Dean’s hip against his hip and the soft flesh of his tricep pressed into his shoulder.

It wasn’t nearly a firm enough hold that Dean would stay on in flight. It was because of this and nothing else that Castiel stooped to curl his arms under Dean’s thighs before taking off.

It was only three or four beats of Castiel’s wings before they landed on the roof of the 7/11 across from the restaurant. Even that short trip had Dean swearing in a constant stream under his breath.

Dean let go as soon as they landed, bending over and putting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“Fuck. Oh shit. Ugh, that was worse than I thought it would be. Holy shit, there was so much bobbing. Fuck.”

Castiel hung back, concerned but unwilling to make it worse for Dean.

Dean took several more deep breaths before standing erect, releasing a final exhale before speaking again. “Okay. Now. Time for that conversation you’ve been avoiding for weeks.”

Castiel held his wings still. This was going to be a much more difficult conversation now that Dean could see them. Dean had always said they gave him away.

“Is this where I finally find out about this project you’ve been doing on me?”

“Maybe,” Dean said, his eyes sparkling. “Why don’t we make this into a game. Twenty questions. Answer for answer.” Dean leaned back against the wall surrounding the roof, crossing his arms. “I’ll go first. Ask me anything.”

That was easy: there was only one thing Castiel was absolutely flummoxed on. “How long did you know it was me?”

Dean tucked his chin to his chest and laughed. “Man, what a waste of a question. I was gonna give you the answer with one of my questions anyway.” Castiel said nothing, waiting for Dean to answer. “I knew the whole time.” Castiel felt his eyes widened and Dean snorted. “I’m a fucking  _ journalist _ , man. You think I didn’t know it was you at the Institute that first day?”

“Does that count as a question?” Castiel asked, petulantly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “No. I wasn’t done.” He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I knew it was you. Then you put on that disguise and, right, I was gonna call you out on it – especially with that bit about the birds. I mean you’re  _ basically _ a bird – but then you introduced yourself as Steve. And I thought ‘Hey, actually, I can use this.’”

“Use it for your project.”

“It’s not your turn to ask a question,” Dean said, grinning. “But yes. For my project.

“But now you,” Dean asked, leaning forward. “What’s with this criminal reform thing? What’s your angle?”

“Easy.” Castiel shrugged, lifting his hands as if to show they were empty. “I don’t have one.”

Dean snorted, a mostly unkind sound.

“My ‘angle,’ as you would call it, is just to make sure the citizens of this city receive the justice of a proper penal system.” He stepped forward, looking imploringly into Dean’s face. “There are people in that prison serving twenty years or more for trying to survive while living in poverty or for trying to make a life for themselves after being banished to the margins of society for being gay or disabled or, god forbid, black. And most of the prisoners are one of those things or more. The criminal justice system, as it stands, inordinately punishes the marginalized, having them serve longer sentences for lesser crimes.

“That’s what I’m trying to correct.” Castiel took a deep breath, feeling himself get worked up and wanting to present himself calmly. “I lived in prison for literally my entire life. And I hadn’t done anything wrong. They just didn’t know where else to put someone like me.” He took another step forward, watching Dean’s face. “It’s no way to live. There are too many people in prison just because we, as a society, don’t know what to do with them. I want to change that.”

Just as Castiel was watching Dean, Dean watched him right back. His mouth was tight, his eyes hooded. They moved steadily over Castiel’s face.

Whatever Dean had been looking for, he must have found it, because his shoulder untensed and his lips parted on a sigh, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay.”

Castiel blinked, almost stumbling back. “Really?”

“Well yeah, man.” Dean sighed again, slumping further against the wall, his eyes on the ground. “I mean, I’ve heard basically the same thing from Sammy a million times. He’s been trying to tell me you were doing a good thing.” Dean looked back at Cas’s face. “Just had to see for myself, you know?”

Castiel wished he had his own wall to lean against. “Is that what your project was on?”

Dean smirked. “Is that your question?” Castiel nodded. Dean shrugged. “Yeah, kind of. It started out trying to figure out your deal, you know? You abducted me how many times but you’d never actually given me a reason to be afraid of you. Then you go and fucking  _ murder _ the Guardian?” Dean let out a breath. Castiel flinched. “See, and then you do that.” Dean said, gesturing at Castiel. “You make me believe you didn’t mean to do it. And then you’re opening a reform school for delinquents and my brother is volunteering for it and we had a  _ huge _ fight over that, believe me.” He chuckled without humor, shaking his head. “And then I meet you outside the Heroes Institute and you’re telling me you miss her. And we’re talking about heroes and good deeds and–” Dean interrupted himself with another huge breath. “And you were so complicated and interesting and poised to, I don’t know, take over the whole city. But you weren’t taking over. And I just kind wanted to know  _ why _ .”

The way Dean left it open told Castiel that that was his cue. It hadn’t really been a question but Castiel could answer anyway.

“I never wanted Anna’s job,” Castiel started, before snorting. “I never wanted  _ my _ job, either. I didn’t start off as a supervillain – in the beginning I was just a weird kid who could protect himself. But because I was weirder and stronger than the other kids, they would end up hurt, and Anna had to protect them from  _ me _ .” He shrugged, finally giving in and lowering himself to sit on the ground, wings in his lap. “That’s all anyone ended up seeing.”

Dean stayed silent but he waved his hand a bit in a silent plea for Castiel to continue.

“I had actual ideas on how to make the city better on a systematic level. No beating up street level crimes, I’m talking actual change. But Anna didn’t want to hear it. And I couldn’t do anything on my own.”  _ Clearly _ .

“So all those plots to get rid of her,” Dean started. “You just wanted a chance to try your ideas?”

“It’s not your turn to ask a question,” Castiel answered, wryly. Dean grinned. “But, yes. I would have been happy to let Anna continue as she was forever. But the people,  _ my _ people, were suffering under her ‘keep the peace’ regime. We needed a little bit of revolution.”

Dean hummed. Castiel watched him. Watched his face consider, a complete lack of fear or disdain in his eyes. No suspicion. No dismissal. Just thought.

Castiel had lost count of the number of times he’d made this pitch. To Anna, to the mayor, to different community organization groups, and none of them had looked at him like this.

“I don’t really have another question, right now,’ Castiel said, fiddling with his flight feathers, nervously. “But I know you have another. So you can just ask it.”

“That’s not really fair.” Dean’s voice and eyes were both so soft. “You don’t have  _ any _ questions.”

Castiel hesitated. But Dean insisted.

“I guess I have one,” he started, brushing his wings behind himself. He folded his hands in his lap, elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “If you knew it was me the whole time, why so many dates?”

Dean sucked in air through his teeth. Then he scratched the back of his neck. Then he cleared his throat into his fist. “That’s a complicated question, Cas.”

Again with ‘Cas.’

Castiel waited, watching Dean’s face.

Dean rolled his eyes, submitting. “I’ll give you a part one. But know that this isn’t the whole answer.” Castiel nodded his understanding and Dean sighed. “I had to keep an eye on you. You didn’t know that I knew and you were trying to get answers outta  _ me _ . I figured I could keep things close to the chest and control how much information you were getting if I stuck close to you. And maybe you’d let something slip and I’d have some information of my own.”

Castiel nodded trying to conceal the crushing disappointment he was trying not to feel.

He knew none of it was real. He, himself, had been deceiving Dean the whole time. Or he’d been trying to deceive him. It made sense that Dean had been deceiving him right back.

“What’s the other part?” Castiel asked, his voice hollow.

Dean pulled his shoulders back, his arms tightening against his chest. “Whether or not I tell you depends on how you answer my next question.”

Well that was ominous. Castiel gestured silently, just as Dean had, telling him to continue.

“What happened to Crowley and how are you involved?”

Castiel nodded, firmly. He had been expecting this question as soon as Dean had exposed him. He was ready for it.

“Crowley volunteered to be part of my public relations. I infused him with The Guardian’s powers so he could be the public face of my city projects, being the hero the city needs to trust to get behind me. ”

Dean squinted. “Isn’t that kind of manipulative?”

Castiel shrugged. “Isn’t all PR manipulative?”

Dean frowned, but then shrugged as if allowing the point.

“But he volunteered?” Dean asked, his face twisting in disbelief. “I don’t think Crowley has ever volunteered to do anything. Not without–” Dean cut himself off, tipping his head back with a sigh before looking back at Castiel, his face resigned. “What did you offer him?”

Castiel blinked, stuttering. “Uh–”

“I know Crowley and he’s all about making deals. Even if you did give him sick ass powers, he wouldn’t be doing this for nothing.”

Castel waved it off, trying to seem unbothered despite the fact that he was very bothered. “Nothing really, he just told me I owed him a favor.”

Dean’s eyes bugged out. “Just ‘a favor’? You have no idea what he’s going to ask you to do?”

“Well, no, but–”

“Man, do you know how dangerous that is? He could ask you to do literally anything, With your magic?”

“Well, magic doesn’t really  _ work _ like that…”

“Do you think he knows that? Or cares?” Dean swore pushing off the wall to stand right in front of Castiel. “That was really stupid, Cas.”

Castiel could feel his wings behind him, puffing up in indignation. Here Dean was again calling Castiel by an overfamiliar nickname, right after belittling him. No, Castiel wouldn’t take that. Not from him, not from anyone. 

He stood up, taking a step to Dean so they were barely an arms length apart. “I took a calculated risk, Dean. I needed to do  _ something _ . My program was falling apart because no one trusted me.”

“Yeah, and that’s the other thing.” Dean said, pointing at Castiel’s chest. “None of this ‘No one trusted you’ bullshit. My brother trusted you. You had a shit ton of volunteers who, even if they didn’t trust  _ you, _ believed in your vision. And you’ve left them hanging for weeks working on this scheme. You abandoned them!”

“I have  _ not _ .” Castiel gasped. “There are systems in place. I know when everyone’s hearings are. They don’t need me to hang around all the time.”

“They kind of do, though! What do you think those prisoners are going to think if they know you’re spending your time somewhere else? They’re going to think they’re a  _ waste _ of your time. That you gave up on them like everyone else.”

Castiel jerked back. “You can’t know that.”

“But I do!” Dean gestured expansively. “Because I’ve been there. Sam brought me in to try and get some positive press for your prisoners, and they’re all miserable. It doesn’t help that fucking Balthazar has been doing weird focus groups.”

Castiel was getting more bewildered by the moment. “What?”

“I don’t even think he’s  _ trying  _ to help. Just trying to get more data for his research study. His patients, the rest of the people – They’re acting out. They feel like side-effects or like collateral damage.”

Castiel released a breath, shaking his head. “No. No, they’re not that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll see, I’m making it better.”

“You can’t know that,” Dean said, echoing him, voice soft and strained. “And you don’t have to do this alone.”

Castiel shook his head again. He didn’t need this right now. The plan was already underway. It had to work. It was  _ going _ to work. Castiel was going to make it work.

He cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough for today.” Dean opened his mouth as if to protest but Castiel shook his head. “No, I’m not–” he sighed. “I’m not dismissing what you’ve said. I just– I can’t do this tonight.”

Dean looked at him, sad. Almost, affectionate. But more than anything, resigned.

“Okay, Cas.” He threw an arm around Castiel’s neck again – overly familiar and unashamed. “I’m parked in the parking garage the next block over.”

Castiel’s mouth quirked against his will. “Which floor?”

“Fourth.”

Castiel chuckled but grabbed Dean’s thighs again, taking off.

They landed on the fourth, next to a black Chevy Impala. He immediately collapsed on the trunk, eyes closed, and started stroking the car’s paint, groaning. Castiel snickered at him.

Dean opened his eyes to glare at him, weakly. Castiel smiled back.

He began to turn away before pausing. As long as this was a night for questions…

“Dean?” Castiel started. Dean hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes closed again. “Why do you call me ‘Cas’?”

Dean hummed again, chuckling. “I could answer that. Or you could ask me for the other part of your last question.”

Castiel sucked in a shuddered breath. “Did I earn it?”

“Maybe not,” Dean shrugged. “But I want to tell you.”

Castiel’s wings did something embarrassing Castiel was beyond glad Dean’s eyes hadn’t been opened to see. “Okay.”

Dean pulled himself to standing with a groan. He walked to open his car door, looking Castiel full in the face.

“I took you on dates because I wanted to, Castiel.” Dean smirked at Castiel’s shock. “There’s a reason I was always so easy to kidnap. I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”

Castiel’s brain was white noise. “It’s abduction unless you’re a minor,” he said, nonsensically.

Dean grinned. “How could I forget,” he said cheekily. He got into his car and turned, his eyes sweeping over Castiel’s wings, not like they were monstrous, but like he wouldn’t mind them wrapped around him. “I’ll see you around, Cas.” And he shut his car door.

Knowing a dismissal when he saw one, Castiel took off, flying pell mell toward home.

 

  


 

 

Castiel expected Jack to have a million questions for him when he came back looking like himself, but whether Jack noticed this difference or whether he had finally learned the subtle art of tact, Castiel could only guess because he didn’t ask Castiel anything when he landed back in his studio that night. His face held a certain smugness or maybe a knowingingness that Castiel didn’t like but didn’t feel warranted a reprimand. He was also a little happier and floatier than normal, but that didn’t mean anything.

Perhaps it did mean something, however, when Castiel’s uncharacteristic lightness left him unprepared for the demand Crowley made of him at their meeting next day.

“I need you to do your abracadabra and make Dean Winchester fall in love with me.”

Castiel was so startled, he didn’t even take a step back. His wings beat him backwards several steps.

“Excuse me?”

Crowley scowled, bristling at having to ask for this favor. Not with enough shame not to do it, but embarrassed nonetheless.

“I’ve done my part,” he said, chin lifted. “You’ve seen what I can do. How I can help our effort. And now you owe me that favor.”

Castiel nodded, not in agreement but in comprehension. “No, I understand that. But what makes you think that what you’re asking is something I can do?”

Crowley snorted. “Oh, please, Castiel. You’ve got magic! Spells, potions, I’ve seen you do it.”

“Magic, yes.” Castiel fidgeted his wings desperate to spread and hide the workings of his workshop from Crowley. “But you’re asking me to interfere with free will. There are some forces that my magic–”

“ _ Your _ magic?” Crowley interrupted. “So there is magic that can do this? You’re just too precious for it?”

Castiel shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking for what I’m owed,” Crowley said, taking a step toward him. “For what you’ve promised me.”

“I never agreed–”

“You  _ agreed _ to whatever I want – your words.” Crowley took another step forward. “I’d hoped my new form – the powers, the public esteem – would endear me more to Mr. Winchester but he seemed… resistant to that idea.” He took yet another step forward. He and Castiel were less than five feet apart. “My favor? Your end of the deal? I want you to weaken his resistance.”

Castiel was still shaking his head. Crowley was right, there were some paths in magic that would allow for something like this. He’d seen it done. But this wasn’t anything Castiel was prepared for. Not only  _ couldn’t _ he do it. He  _ wouldn’t _ .

“No.” Castiel looked up at him, squaring his shoulders. He was still bigger than Crowley. He would not be intimidated. “I’m sorry. You must have misunderstood. There is nothing I can do for you regarding Dean Winchester. You’ll have to pick something else for your favor.”

Crowley was right in front of him now. His eyes came just past Castiel’s chin. “I don’t  _ want _ anything else.”

Castiel kept his head high, forcing him to look down at this nose at Crowley. “Then we’ll wait until you do. Because I can’t do this.”

Castiel should have been expecting the shove. He was not.

Crowley’s strength was such that several of Castiel’s ribs broke under his hands, his body becoming airborne under the force of the push.

Castiel’s wings caught him before he collided with anything important, flapping on instinct to slow his progress so he was lowered to the ground relatively gently. The ‘relative’ was an important qualifier because no matter how gentle it was, the rattling it did to his ribs was enough to rob Castiel of several coherent moments due to pain.

Crowley tried advancing on him but was met by an invisible barrier. Jack had limited power compared to Castiel or other Garrisonians of his kind, but when confronted with a threat – someone who might inhibit his ability to heal – there were exponentially fewer limits to what he could do.

“You’re done here, Crowley,” Jack told him. “Walk away while you can – we made you, we know how to stop you.”

Crowley leveled laser vision at him. It didn’t make it beyond Jack’s barrier. 

Crowley screamed in frustration, throwing whatever he could think of at Jack’s barrier, creating a mess of the studio behind him, snakes and squirrels being startled out of their hidey holes and fleeing.

“You’ll regret this, Castiel! You gave me these powers but I don’t think you realize what I can do with them.”

Jack barely spared him a glance, lowering himself next to Castiel and starting on the healing process.

Through the pain, there was nothing Castiel could do but wait to be healed and listen to Crowley cause unspeakable damage to everything that wasn’t him.

He couldn’t send Crowley into the world like this. And he definitely couldn't give him what he wanted.

He mourned his plan. This plan that could have been perfect. He grieved that he’d have to start over. That he’d wasted all this time. That he’d made the people he was most trying to help feel abandoned for nothing.

Under Jack’s caring hand, he was healed up in a matter of minutes. Seeing as there was nothing inhibiting Jack’s ability to heal anymore, the barrier dissolved. Crowley advanced on him, only stopping at the wall of flame that suddenly erupted before him: a failsafe Castiel had implemented – a ring of holy fire.

Crowley growled in frustration, not quite willing to walk through the fire. Castiel sighed, taking off one of his bracelet anchors sadly, and setting it aflame.

Crowley was still wearing his costume – the costume Jack and Castiel had designed for him – and he screamed out in surprise when it suddenly became very heavy in the neck, wrists, and ankles. Castiel had transfigured the near invisible gold leaf lining the hems of the costume to pure iron.

It was another fail safe – a way to incapacitate the almighty Goliath in case of emergencies. The iron should keep him docile until Castiel got around to defusing his power.

But… Crowley was not docile. He was slower, the new heaviness of his limbs making his movements clumsy and unpracticed. But he was moving. And he was still mad as hell.

He let out a stream of frustration, advancing on Castiel.

He walked through the fire.

Which should not have been possible.

“Boss!” Jack yelled, gesturing to a banishing sigil he’d drawn with his own blood. Castiel ran over and smacked it.

Crowley screamed again as he was pulled, forcefully, from Castiel’s studio.

Jack and Castiel were still for a few moments, breathing loudly in the sudden silence Crowley had left.

The ward was an emergency precaution. It wasn’t powerful enough to keep Crowley away but it should have sent him far enough that it would be a few hours until he got back to Castiel’s studio.

Jack looked at Castiel, full of fear and concern. Castiel looked back, for once not sure at all how to comfort those fears and concerns. 

He wasn’t sure what to do next at all.

  
  


Because Castiel didn’t know what he needed to do, he instead did what he wanted to do.

He went to Dean.

Or, he summoned Dean to him. He hadn’t been lying to Dean when he told him he didn’t have a phone, but now he knew Dean knew it was him, he did have ways of sending him messages.

He sent him a raven.

Dean arrived at Castiel’s studio within a half hour.

He let out a low whistle. “What happened here?”

“Crowley,” Castiel answered flatly.

Dean turned to him, his eyes mournful but his mouth turned into half a smile. “Curse his sudden but inevitable betrayal.”

Castiel sighed. “Dean–”

“No, I know, Cas.” Dean reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Castiel was actually wearing clothes this time so Dean’s hand didn’t meet his bare skin. Castiel tried not to regret this. “That wasn’t an ‘I told you so’. I’m sorry this didn’t work how you wanted.”

Castiel let himself lean into Dean’s hand for just a moment before becoming aware of Jack watching, and pulling away. “It’s not over yet.”

Dean tilted his head, Castiel strode a few steps away to gather his thoughts. “I banished him from this building, but he’s still in the city. And still powerful. Iron didn’t seem to affect him at all. I expected it to at least slow him down, after Anna…”

Castiel stopped himself, blinking furiously. Jack put a hand on his shoulder this time.

“Okay…” Dean took a deep breath, clapping his hands together once. “Okay. So what do you want to do?”

Castiel looked to Jack, asking him a question with his eyes. Jack fought back briefly but relented, sighing and letting Castiel go. 

Castiel nodded at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He turned back to Dean. “Jack is going to watch the rehab facility. They’re vulnerable because Crowley knows it’s important to me. But I need backup. Would you be willing?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean said without hesitation. “Where are we going?”

Castiel couldn’t hold back a smile, newly inspired by Dean’s enthusiasm. “The mountains,” Castiel answered. “It’s time to investigate our friend, The Guardian.”

  
  


Dean insisted they take his car on their magical journey of discovery, citing his air sickness as reason not to have Castiel fly them over.

The Impala being a slower method of transport, it took them almost an hour to get out of the city and into the mountains. Dean and Castiel barely spoke on their journey. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable but Castiel still wished they would speak to each other – he’d gotten used to the easy conversation Dean had had with Steve. Now that Castiel was himself, he found it was harder to say things as casually or as freely.

He still wanted to try.

They were coming up on the mountain road when Castiel said, “I’m not actually sure where Anna’s secret hideout is. I only ever saw her flying this way after battles.”

Dean hummed. “It’s okay. I know where to go.”

Castiel tried not to seem startled or hurt by this. It was a weird kind of jealousy to which he knew he was not entitled. He sucked his lips into his mouth, his wings pushing slightly against the restraint of the car seat against his back. He had resolved not to say anything when he looked over at Dean and caught the knowing smirk on his face. 

“I thought you said you and The Guardian weren’t close,” Castiel blurted, provoked by Dean’s expression. “Why were you at her secret hideout?”

Dean grinned, clearly enjoying the response he’d created. “I said I barely knew her. That we weren’t  _ together _ .” He winked. “But she did tell me I was one of the only citizens she could trust. So she showed me her hideout in case of emergencies.”

Castiel bit his lip, embarrassed now about getting so worked up. Even if it looked like getting Castiel worked up was exactly what Dean had wanted.

“Well then,” Castiel cleared his throat. “Good.”

Dean swiveled his eyes to him, giving him a smug look before turning back to the road. “What’s good? That I know where I’m going or that The Guardian and I were never together?”

Castiel cleared his throat again. “Both.”

Dean chuckled under his breath, taking one hand off the wheel and letting it rest on their shared armrest.

Castiel wasn’t so great with signals but all signs pointed to Dean wanting him to take it.

He didn’t.

Not yet.

“Dean, I wanted to apologize,” Castiel started, his heart going very fast in his chest. “For attempting to trick you and taking advantage of your attraction to my visage.” Castiel felt himself blush. His biology traditionally didn’t allow this but perhaps being among humans for so long had caused him to adapt. “Even if it turned out I never fooled you for a moment, my intent to still warrants an apology.”

Dean waved his hand, quickly returning it to its place on the armrest. “You didn’t take advantage. And I don’t think you even tried to. I was the one that tried to mess with you with that date stuff. You called my bluff.”

Castiel’s wings tensed against his back, some of the feathers pulling as they dragged against the leather of the seat. “A bluff. Right.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up at the change in Castiel’s tone. “You okay?”

Castiel started to nod but quickly changed to shaking his head. What was the point of hiding things anymore? What did he have to lose?

“It’s just…” he started, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. “Was any of it real? You started out messing with me but you also told me you’ve ‘always had a thing for bad boys.’” Castiel felt Dean chuckle at his air quotes and felt brave enough to open his eyes. “I guess I’m just wondering… where we stand here.”

Dean seemed to be thinking very intently over how he wanted to answer. His head was tilted thoughtfully, his eyes on the road but also very very far away.

Castiel took a moment to appreciate Dean’s face as he hadn’t allowed himself to when he was still pretending not to be in love with him. His sharp cheekbones a contrast to his soft jawline created a balanced and kind looking face, but that wasn’t what drew Castiel’s attention every time.

It was the freckles spread unevenly over Dean’s face – more pronounced on the left side from the sunlight of the driver’s side window. It was the nose that had clearly been broken when Dean was very young because the slant to the left was so subtle it looked like the rest of his face had grown around it. It was the slight stubble of the day and the crows feet by his eyes: stories of a man who lived large and well.

And his eyes. They reminded Castiel of the tricks his planet’s star would play on the atmosphere, what humans called ‘The Northern Lights’ here on Earth. And the space dust that still lurked in the cosmos, remnants of something that was and ingredients for something that could be. But mostly, they were green like the earth. The earth that, while it hadn’t been completely kind to Castiel, had shaped him and made him who he was. And for the earth he was grateful.

Dean’s eyes were also just outrageously pretty. 

“I…” Dean started, jerking Castiel back to the moment. “I think the dates were real. We knew who each other were, even if only one of us knew we both knew. I don’t think you told me anything untrue.” Dean paused, bobbing his head to the other side. “ _ Except _ that your name was Steve, I mean. That was obviously untrue. But everything else?” Dean shrugged. “I think it was real. I want it to be real.” He looked at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, looking nervous for the first time. “What about you?”

Castiel had been gradually warming as Dean spoke, his body almost glowing under all the wonderful feelings Dean’s words evoked.

He didn’t know how to tell Dean he agreed. He didn’t know what words to use to show Dean that they were exactly on the same page.

So he took his hand.

Dean grinned, his cheeks going all the way back toward his ears. His ears that stood out too far from his head and that Castiel loved just as much as every other imperfection of Dean’s.

“Cool,” Dean said, turning his and Cas’s hands to a more comfortable position, squeezing Cas’s palm tightly. “Cool.”

  
  
  


The road somehow went right up to the mouth of the cave without Dean and Castiel having to get out and walk, which was odd and also Castiel wasn’t sure how Anna had managed it. How could your hideout be secret when there was a literal road that led right to it? How was the road even constructed this far up? Castiel wished Anna was still alive for no other reason than so he could ask her these questions.

They got out of the car, the old hinges of the doors announcing their arrival even if the rumbling engine hadn’t. Dean listed to the right as he walked forward, Castiel coming around the car behind him. Dean reached blindly for his hand and Castiel took it, his wings doing a happy little shimmy behind him, despite the seriousness of the situation.

The cave looked pretty much like every other cave until they reached a crevice in the wall that had been shaped into a spiral staircase. Anna definitely had the ability to sculpt stone into a staircase but no way did she have the artmanship. He was dying to know who’d helped her with this.

They went down the stairs. Single file, because the spiral was really quite narrow, but Dean made sure he kept their fingers linked together. Castiel would have been overjoyed at this if he hadn’t been so distracted by the stone of the staircase scraping against his wings.

He was so distracted by the unpleasant sensation against his feathers, he walked right into Dean who had stopped directly outside of the staircase.

“Dean?” Castiel asked. 

Dean stepped aside, dumbly, so Castiel could see what he saw.

Anna was sitting on a giant couch, book cradled in her hands, frozen looking at them just as they were frozen looking at her.

She unfroze a bit, showing them a small, embarrassed looking smile.

“Uh, hey guys.”

“Anna,” Castiel didn’t even think, he rushed toward her and gathered her in his arms, pulling her up from the couch. “I am so angry with you,” he said, tucking his face into her neck. “I have never been more angry with anyone in the history of time.” He squeezed her tightly, his wings coming around to wrap around them both. “I can’t believe you would do that to me, you bitch.”

Anna laughed, nervous and embarrassed, but hugged him back. “I’m sorry. I know. You didn’t deserve that.”

Castiel closed his eyes, just letting himself be in the moment, until Dean interrupted.

“I gotta say, this is  _ super _ weird to watch,” he said, his voice closer than Castiel had been expecting. “And, I mean,  _ I’m _ in the loop that you guys aren’t mortal enemies. Can you imagine how anyone else would feel watching this right now?”

Castiel chuckled, releasing Anna and opening his wings so Dean could see them properly. Anna smiled at him. “Hi, Dean.”

Dean inclined his head at her, a soft smirk on his face. “Guardian.”

She rolled her eyes, backing out from under Castiel’s wings. “I think we’re well past that, Dean. You can call me Anna.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Castiel looked over at Dean, surprised at his tone. His posture was very defensive, hands folded in front of him, feet wide. He looked very much like someone who was ready to  _ challenge _ Anna. Which was ridiculous – they both knew her power.

“Too bad,” Anna said back, folding her arms in front of her to mirror Dean. “I’m not The Guardian anymore. The Guardian’s dead.”

At those words, Castiel felt his anger rise again.

“But you’re not,” he said, turning and folding his wings back. “And how is that, by the way? We saw your ashes.”

Anna sighed, relaxing out of her power pose almost as quickly as she’d formed it. “No, you saw ashes,” Anna sat back on the couch, showing every appearance of exhaustion. “They weren’t mine, obviously.”

“But I felt your energy. The aura of death–”

“I found a mouse in the alley to die for your death aura, I burned off my costume with my laser vision so it would have my energy, and I used my super speed to paint the ashes in the shape of my body and wings.” Anna said all this, rapid fire, as if she’d had all of these points saved and was just waiting for an opportunity for someone to ask. She crossed one leg over the other. “I’ve been fighting you for a long time, Castiel. I know what you look for.”

Castiel shook his head. Not that what she was saying didn’t make sense but Castiel couldn’t imagine why.

“ _ Why? _ ”

Anna gave him a pitying look. It cut right through him.

“Why?!” he asked again, getting properly angry this time. “Why would you make me think you were dead? Why would you make  _ everyone _ think you were dead? That  _ I _ killed you? You know I was never going to kill you, you knew I never would. Why would you make me and everyone else believe that I had?”

A slight pressure against his palm pulled him back some from his anger and grief. He gripped Dean’s hand without looking at him, taking the comfort from him he could.

Anna’s attention caught on it, Dean’s hand in his, and she opened her mouth to speak.

“No,” Castiel stopped her before she could. “No, no sidetracking. Answer me.”

Anna sucked her lips into her mouth before blowing them back out in a sigh.

“I was tired,” she started, slumping further into the couch. “I  _ am _ tired. It’s like everything I did, all those times I ‘saved the day’ didn’t matter. They didn’t mean anything. Bad things kept happening. And I was the city’s  _ only line of defense! _ ”

“No one  _ asked _ you to be.”

“Yes they did!” Anna sat forward. “They made me their idol! Their saviour! They gave me a fucking  _ statue _ . But do you think Chuck had a backup plan for if I was gone? Do you think the police had any idea what they were actually doing?”

Castiel winced. “I can say from experience that, no, they really didn’t.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean defended, taking another step toward Castiel. “Detective Henriksen seems pretty okay.”

Anna smirked at him. “Okay, Dean. You just think Victor’s pretty.”

“Victor  _ is _ pretty,” Dean said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s incompetent.”

Castiel frowned. Dean squeezed his hand. “You’re prettier,” he muttered. Castiel felt a little better. But still.

Anna rolled her eyes at the pair of them. “Detective Henriksen’s competence or lack thereof aside, an effective police force one detective does not make.” She sunk back again. “It was a lot of pressure.”

Castiel snorted. Anna looked up at him, hurt.

“No, don’t give me that,” Castiel told her. “I was there the whole time. The only reason you did everything by yourself was because you wanted to. You  _ reveled _ in being the center of attention.”

“Oh, what, I was supposed to ask  _ you _ for help?” Anna asked, snorting cruelly herself. “The city was never going to follow you. With your creepy stare and your big black wings, swooping around everywhere. You couldn’t be a hero.”

Castiel sucked in an audible breath. Dean took another step so he was pressed right to Castiel’s side.

“It worked for Batman,” Dean bit out. Castiel smiled reflexively.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel squeezed his hand. “But that’s not the point,” he said, turning back to Anna. “I offered you so many solutions, none of which were making me a ‘hero’. Things that could make things systematically  _ better, _ so you wouldn’t have to fight street-level criminals every week. And you rejected them. Because – why, pride?”

Anna said nothing. 

“If the way you’re doing things isn’t working,” Castiel continued. “There’s no shame in asking for help in finding a better way.”

Anna looked contrite, her folded arms drooping toward her lap.

Dean snorted.

Castiel turned to him, betrayed.

“Sorry,” Dean coughed, squeezing Castiel’s hand. “It’s just. Isn’t that kind of what I said to you? About Crowley and not having to do things on your own?”

Castiel groaned and bumped Dean with his shoulder. “Yes, and you were right. Do you want a cookie?”

Dean grinned. Anna started laughing from the couch.

“You know, I was waiting for this,” she said, gesturing between them.

“No one asked you,” Castiel snapped. “The only reason we’re here is because we were trying to find your weakness. We thought it was iron but, well,  _ clearly _ you were just messing with me.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “It’s your fault for falling for it. Come on, do you know how much iron is in this city? Why would it affect me differently  _ that _ time and not every other time you’ve used magic?”

Castiel scowled, feeling stupid. 

“So what  _ is _ your weakness?” Dean asked, not letting Castiel feel stupid for long. “We kind of have a villain with you-powers on the loose and we need to know how to stop him.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think there’s anything on this planet that can weaken me – or. Maybe if you had some Sumerite–”

“All the Sumerite in the universe was sucked into a black hole along with the rest of your planet and mine,” Castiel said, suddenly exhausted. “Holy fire?”

Anna snapped her fingers, “Oh, that works. At least as a trap,” Anna said, brightly before wrinkling her nose. “But it probably wouldn’t work on a human, even if he had my powers. Different molecular makeup.”

Castiel swore, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can’t you stop him?” he asked, sounding more desperate then he would have liked.

Anna shook her head. 

“You don’t want that, anyway,” Dean told him, giving him a sad smile. “The Guardian coming in and saving the day would undo all the work you’ve done.”

“Yeah, fat lot of good that work has done me.”

Dean shrugged. “It hasn’t  _ not _ done good.”

That gave Castiel an idea.

He swooped in and kissed Dean on the forehead. “You’re a genius.”

He turned away from Dean’s stunned expression to point at Anna. “I’m still very angry with you. Very excited you’re not dead. I’m coming back and we’re having dinner after all this if I don’t die. We need to discuss this hideout I have so many questions.”

“Ooh, bring garlic bread.”

“Sure,” Castiel turned back to Dean. “But first I need to talk to my criminals.”

  
  


“Boo!”

“Down with the deserter!”

“Go back to your planet!”

Castiel sighed, lifting his hands in acknowledgement. “Yes, thank you, Claire and Kaia. Does anyone else wish to voice their displeasure?”

No one else spoke but their expressions were ones of betrayal and distrust.

He and Dean had arrived back at the rehab center amid the chaos of what looked to be a fight in the yard but was actually, according to Sam Winchester, dance practice.

“I read an article where a bunch of inmates learned ‘Thriller’ and it brought them closer together.” Sam had shrugged, not bothering to look bashful. “I figured if we gave them a common goal it might help with reform. And also distract them from how you straight up abandoned them.”

Castiel deserved that but it wasn’t particularly helpful to him at that moment.

He was standing on a picnic table, the entire former inmate population and staff watching him with sceptical eyes.

“What about the staff?” Castiel tried. “Who would like to yell at me?”

Pamela raised her hand and Castiel almost flinched. She’d never been shy. But this was perhaps a good thing.

“Yes, Pamela, please. I deserve it.”

Pamela pulled herself to stand on top of an opposite table, pulling focus. “Okay, ignoring the fact that I was brought here to serve against my will, and then you straight up  _ left _ us, for weeks, when you knew we were struggling, what the hell are you doing here now? We finally managed to work things out, kind of. What are you doing interrupting everything again?”

Castiel sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected to arrive at this point so soon.

“Well… we have a problem.”

“We have a lot of problems!” shouted Ishim. Other inmates grumbled in agreement.

“Yes, I know.” Castiel sighed. “But this one is a little… bigger.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’ll deign to talk to us again?” shouted Charlie. That one hurt – Charlie had been one of the volunteers who was usually on his side.

“Yo! Hear him out!” shouted Dean.

Castiel cast him a grateful look before turning back to the discontented masses.

“I’m sorry I left you all for so long. I never meant for anyone to feel abandoned. I was working on a venture that was supposed to make things easier for everyone – providing us with more resources and public good will. It didn’t work. So now we have a super-powered being that’s threatening the city.”

Immediate muttering swept through the crowd.

“None of you are to worry!” Castiel called over them. “This building and the surrounding grounds are warded against him. I thought he might come for you so I took all necessary precautions. You have Jack here to protect you. You’re safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” shouted Lee Chambers, a man serving five years for tax fraud. “I’ve got a kid on the outside! Who’s protecting her?”

There were several shouts of agreement. Castiel’s eyes skated over them, nervous.

“I’m doing my best to contain the situation!” Castiel shouted over them. “I contacted the mayor and all schools and hospitals are running lockdown procedures.” That had been Dean’s idea on the way to the mountain as Castiel had never had to worry about actual casualties before. He’d let Castiel use his phone. “Our ultimate goal is to contain and depower Crowley but I need a little help to do that. Crowley has all the same powers as The Guardian but none of the good will. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Why do you need our help?” Meg asked, arms crossed at the back of the yard. “You’re the one who killed The Guardian the first time. Can’t you just use iron?”

Castiel flinched. Even though he now knew he  _ hadn’t _ killed Anna, he couldn’t tell anyone that. “I don’t want to kill anyone. Last time was an accident.” He grit his teeth against the muttering of disbelief. “And I already tried iron to slow him down and it didn’t work. We need something else.”

“If he were trapped, would you know how to power him down?” asked Sam, saying something actually helpful. 

Castiel glanced at Jack who nodded. “Yes, we can reverse the spell, we think. We just need to get some of his blood. It won’t be easy because of his skin but–”

“Wait, did you just say reverse the spell?” Claire asked in disbelief. “Are you telling us you used magic to  _ make _ this guy superpowered?!”

More muttering and some shouting.

“I was trying to create a positive public persona to endorse this project!” Castiel shouted over them. “I thought it would help!”

More shouting. Some people actually started to shake their fists.

Another figure climbed on a table.

She whistled once, loudly, and everyone immediately fell silent.

“Jody,” Castiel gasped.

She nodded at him. “Castiel.”

He swallowed out of guilt. He’d been avoiding her for months now. He couldn’t stand to know what she’d thought of him – this woman who raised him – when she thought he’d murdered the city’s hero.

Her face gave nothing away, but she turned to address the gathered people.

“Bold Defiance has been under my security on and off for his entire life. Some of you know this because you were in the prison right alongside him. Some of you probably didn’t even know he was raised in a prison. And I’ll bet none of you know what originally got him there – Lord knows I don’t. We’ve distrusted and feared him because we were told to. But I know, for a fact, he has never willingly and purposefully harmed another human being. Tricked us, sure. Defended himself, you bet. But when he says he’s doing what he thought was best for everyone here, I believe him.”

She looked over at him, chin set, eyes determined. “If Bold Defiance – Castiel – needs our help. I think we should help him.”

Castiel felt thick tears roll slowly down his face. He turned to Sam Winchester who was now looking at him with the same determination as the warden. He looked at Dean and Jack who were looking at him with fond smiles. He looked at Claire and Kaia who were still hurt but now had a certain fire in their eyes. He looked at Benny who gave him a thumbs up. He looked at his volunteers and non-volunteers who grimaced and sighed and nodded along.

“I don’t know about you’s, but I’m ready to kick some ass!” shouted Donna from the back. The tension broke and there was some chuckling among the masses. “What do you need from us, Castiel?”

Castiel choked a laugh, his wings arching in content relief and his hands coming up to brush the tears off his face. “I think we should go with what Sam said. We have to set a trap.”

  
  


The trap was simultaneously very simple and exceedingly complicated.

_ “Like making an omelet,”  _ Dean had said, smiling a bit at his analogy.

Castiel had rolled his eyes but smiled back.

Dean was still wearing that dopey little smile, shooting a small wink over his shoulder at Castiel as he stood on the steps of the Institute of Heroics, calling Crowley’s name into the sky.

The smile was by design. The placement was by design. Castiel bit at the callous on his thumb.

Jack swatted at his hands. “Stop that. If you get any of your fluids in these ingredients it won’t work.”

“Right,” Castiel said, extracting his thumb and swiping it on his pants. “Right. So, what do we still need?”

“The ingredients are going to need to sit with these crystals for a bit but we should be ready for the blood when Dean gets it.”

“Right,” Castiel said again, blinking rapidly, his eyes on Dean’s back.

He and Jack were standing a couple dozen yards behind Dean between the feet of Anna’s statue, a glamour up and concealing their work station. A couple of strategic rehabilitated prisoners were standing discreetly around the perimeter, working containment while the trap went down.

That had been a hard sell, letting some of the prisoners out of the warded facility, but Castiel had promised that they’d be magically bound to the assignment, meaning they wouldn’t be able to get far if they tried to run and they would be taken down harmlessly if they tried to do harm. The volunteers agreed to these restrictions. There wasn’t anything the warden could do to deter him but volunteer herself.

The ‘containment’ the prisoners would be working on would be keeping pedestrians out of the plaza and, if need be, working distraction to keep Crowley within magical reach but far enough he wouldn’t hurt anyone.

The plan was simple: Dean would lure him in and he’d get him monologuing.

The plan was hideously complicated because if this didn’t work, they had no plan B. No protection. No escape plan. This had to work or it was the end of all of them.

Getting to the Institute through the city had been a confirmation of that. The streets were decimated – random things on fire, citizens holed up or else cowering in alleyways.

Castiel was almost glad he’d missed whatever terror Crowley had unleashed.

He really hoped that they could stop him now, so Castiel would never have to experience it first hand.

“Crowleeeeeey,” Dean practically whined. “For someone who claimed to want me so bad, you’re sure taking your sweet time showing up.”

“Dean,” Castiel bit in warning, the projection spell making it so that only Dean could hear him.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean said softly back. Castiel could hear him roll his eyes. “What’s he gonna do to me?”

Castiel shuddered. Dean had never heard of Murphy’s Law, it seemed. Or foreshadowing.

“Crowley!” Dean yelled again. “I know you can hear me! Don’t make me call your mom.”

Castiel sighed, resolving to work even harder and faster on this spell.

It was after a certain mention of a tailor that Crowley did the superhero(villain) landing at the base of the steps. Castiel watched as his backup startled at the sudden entrance and then carefully acted as if they hadn’t been startled. He sighed again. They were all being so helpful, but trained professionals they were not.

Crowley sauntered – there really was no other word for it – up the steps toward Dean. His outfit was still pristine even while the rest of the city was turned to filth around him. The advantages of not having to get your hands dirty.

“Well, hello there, Dean.” He cast Dean a lascivious grin. “You didn’t have to beg for my attention, although it is a good color on you.”

Castiel grit his teeth, gesturing impatiently at Jack. Jack held up eight fingers.

Eight minutes they needed to do this. Then they could take his blood.

Castiel could only see Dean’s back but his posture had turned particularly flirty. Castiel felt a molar crack.

_“I’ll just Princess Jasmine him,”_ Dean had said, further explaining when Castiel didn’t understand his reference. _“Genie couldn’t make Jasmine fall in love, but she pretended like he had to distract Jafar until Aladdin could get close enough to free him._ _The genie I mean_.” Dean had waved a hand. _“I know what to do, Cas, don’t worry about it_.”

Castiel was trying very hard not to worry about it. But he didn’t like it.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Dean pouted. “I haven’t seen you in  _ days _ .”

By Castiel’s count it had only been 32 hours, but he understood if Dean had to play it up.

“Yes, I do recall,” Crowley said, taking another step forward. “Last time we saw each other you were rejecting me. Isn’t that right?”

“Come on, Crowley,” Dean said, taking his own step toward him. Castiel tensed. “What did you expect? You showed up, suddenly powerful and super, and you told me it was about time we got together. I didn’t know what was going on. I was…” Dean took a deliberate pause. His voice was breathier when he continued. “Overwhelmed.”

Castiel hated this. Had he mentioned that he hated this? He hated everything about this.

He cast a look at Jack who immediately flashed him five fingers.

Five minutes.

Crowley hummed, stepping forward and bring up a hand to skim Dean’s waist. “Is that right?”

“It’s not wrong,” Dean said, only the slight tightness in his throat revealing there was anything he didn’t like about the situation. Crowley wasn’t likely to notice that, however.

Castiel did. His fingers tightened around the bowl.

Crowley tightened his own grip on Dean’s waist. “So your answer is different now, then?”

“My answer,” Dean said, swallowing. His hand came up to cup Crowley’s elbow. To anyone else it might have looked like it was Dean holding Crowley close but Castiel suspected it was to keep a certain distance between them. “Depends…”

“On what?” Crowley purred.

“On your plans, Crowley,” Dean said, his head tilted down to Crowley’s. “You told me you were a superhero. What do you plan on doing with our city?” Dean looked up, pretending as if he was only just noticing the destruction. “And what have you done to it?”

Crowley hesitated, his grip loosening on Dean.

Dean seized the chance and stepped away. Not in a way where he was noticeably trying to distance himself from him but more like he was making a dramatic and impassioned plea.

Castiel was impressed and a little jealous. It was new for him to share the spotlight like this.

“We’ve  _ needed _ a superhero. That could be you! It  _ should _ be you! But how can we trust you to protect us if you do things like this?”

Crowley looked every bit like a man who was doing some very quick calculations in his head.

Castiel could almost hear the  _ ‘ding!’ _ when the lightbulb went off.

“Oh, Dean,” Crowley started, raising his body a bit into the air so he was hovering. It put him ever so slightly taller than Dean. “This was all a  _ part _ of the plan.” He floated backwards, arms outstretched. “Do you really think we could have gone back to the way things were when The Guardian was alive? The complete citizen complacence? The dependence on one being? Oh no.” 

Crowley had reached the very center of the plaza. He rose up higher, rotating as if to show off his handiwork.

“We need to rebuild. Not just since Bold Defiance took charge and threw everything into chaos but from the ground up. There are so many institutional issues in this city, up to and including the mass incarceration problem.”

Castiel growled, softly. That was  _ his _ platform issue.  _ He’d _ trained that answer into Crowley.

“My first order of business was to create a little mayhem,” Crowley continued, gesturing casually at the flaming police car on one of the off-streets. “The citizens got way too comfortable with The Guardian around – it’s why it was so easy for Bold Defiance to take over.”

Castiel grunted. He wasn’t wrong about that.

“It’s time the police and government and private citizens learn to take responsibility for themselves. I can only guard and protect a society that respects itself, Dean.”

Dean hummed, looking even to Castiel like he was buying this.

“Remember there’s a plan, Dean,” he said, as quietly as he could. The glamour should protect him from being overheard, but Crowley had super hearing. Castiel had no idea if it would work.

Dean gave the slightest of nods, his hand coming behind his back to give Castiel a thumbs up. Castiel breathed a bit.

He raised an eyebrow at Jack. Three fingers up. Three minutes.

They had to get Dean close to Crowley again.

“And what about Bold Defiance?” Dean asked, prompting Crowley to continue.

Crowley snorted. “That idiot? It’ll be easy enough to keep him occupied.”

That sounded ominous.

Dean’s laugh was very obviously forced but, again, Crowley was unlikely to notice. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Well, I don’t know if you might have noticed by all the times he kidnapped you, but the man’s just a bit obsessed with you.”

“Abducted,” Castiel corrected automatically. He was too humiliated by the rest of the statement to say anything else.

Dean snorted a genuine laugh at Castiel. Luckily, Crowley thought it was for him.

He grinned, cruelly, sauntering back up the steps to Dean.

“Yes, I find it rather amusing myself. Sad, really.” Castiel grit his teeth. “But don’t you see? Once you join me, it’ll be so simple to manipulate him. Let him have his little hopeless prison project, let him run it into the ground, and by then we’ll have established a new social order.”

“You don’t think his plan will work?” Dean asked, what sounded like actual offended disbelief in his voice.

“Watch it…” Castiel warned him. He was grateful for Dean’s defensiveness but he didn’t want Crowley to get suspicious.

“I mean, you said we had a mass incarceration problem,” Dean tried, his tone taking on that false sweetness he’d had when he’d been flirting with Crowley. “How do you think we should fix it?”

Crowley shrugged, almost within touching distance of Dean now. “Death penalty. Private prisons. Something that will make the prisoners no longer our problem.”

Dean shuddered, obviously having a hard time masking his disgust.

Luckily, Jack was flashing him both hands of fingers three times.

“Just thirty seconds, Dean.” Castiel told him, keeping his voice low. “Just a little bit longer, you’re doing great.”

Dean laughed another fake laugh. Crowley’s responding smile was so slimy it could have been found on the bottom of a ship.

“Well that all certainly sounds better than senseless mass destruction.”

Crowley hummed again, his hands coming again to Dean’s waist.

“Put–” Castiel swallowed. “Put your arms around his neck, Dean.”

Castiel saw Dean’s fingers twitch once in hesitation.

Then he was putting his arms around Crowley’s neck.

They stood that way for less than a second but it was just long enough that Castiel knew it was going to be burned into his memories, only to be called up when Castiel truly wanted to hate himself.

As it was, though, he didn’t have the time.

He said a quick spell, touching two fingers to one of the pendants on his wrist, and almost immediately, the sky was full of black birds, all converging down on Dean and Crowley.

There’s no way Crowley wouldn’t hear them. This was maybe a flawed plan.

Flawed or not, it was happening. As soon as the birds were close enough, Dean gripped his hands in Crowley’s hair and yanked back  _ hard _ , exposing his neck to the beaks and talons of the birds coming their way.

They weren’t quick enough.

Crowley swore, swatting at the birds, doing no damage to himself. He was still holding onto Dean, his grip strong enough that when he rose into the air, he took Dean with him.

Dean struggled.

Crowley, as established, had a bit of a temper.

“I should have known you’d be working with him.” He held Dean close to him, sneering into his perfect face. “Well fine. This doesn’t change anything. You can’t stop me and I don’t need you. In fact–”

He grabbed Dean by the throat, floating higher and away from Castiel’s backup that had run in to try and help.

“Boss–” Jack warned. Castiel was already outside of the glamour, taking off his shirt. 

“This is what I think if that little stunt, Dean Winchester.”

And Crowley threw Dean, like a football, five thousand feet in the air.

Castiel immediately took off after him.

He knew he was leaving his people behind, abandoning Jack; for all he knew he was ruining the spell.

But  _ Dean _ .

He flew harder and faster than he ever had in his life – faster than when he thought he’d murdered Anna at that opera house. His wings barely flapped. He was just propelling himself through the air, as a comet, each beat of his wings taking him far and fast.

He watched as Dean crested and started coming back down, his limbs spread wide and kicking around. Good, wide limbs would slow his fall.

If he didn’t stop kicking, though, he would definitely kick Castiel in the face.

Dean had just fallen past the point of the tallest building when Cas caught up to him.

He grabbed Dean close to his chest, extending his wings as far as they would go, slowing the fall and changing their trajectory.

Dean was breathing hard, hands scrabbling at Castiel’s shoulders. His eyes were wide and bright and Castiel had to tear his eyes away from them so he could focus on landing.

They still hit the ground pretty hard.

The former inmates were doing a pretty good job of distracting Crowley without being totally annihilated, but they wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. And Castiel was pretty sure his ankle was broken.

He and Dean crumpled to the ground, Castiel keeping a firm hold on Dean even after it seemed his ankle wouldn’t support his own weight, let alone the weight of an entire other man. Dean’s hip crushed Castiel’s hand to the ground, breaking several of his fingers.

Dean didn’t seem to notice and curled into him on the ground, too panicked from his sudden flight to do anything but cling.

In short, they were sitting ducks.

Crowley landed on the ground, hard, causing a ripple of kinetic energy that had everyone around off-balance and toppling over. He stalked over to them, using a more human amble than a super-powered glide. He smirked as he watched Castiel fumble with his broken fingers to rip off a bracelet, to activate a ward, to do  _ anything. _

Out of desperation, Castiel pulled Dean closer to him, shielding them both with his wings. They wouldn’t be effective against Crowley – his wings were flesh and bone, same as the rest of him – but maybe they could give Dean some sort of comfort.

Suddenly, a shout:  _ “Castiel!” _

It was Jack.

Suddenly there was a light and then Crowley screamed.

Castiel moved one of his wings, just enough that he could see what was happening.

Crowley’s screams of torment were not because he was in a hideous amount of pain. No, he was throwing a temper tantrum.

Jack had trapped him in a forcefield bubble.

Jack didn’t even look at Crowley in the bubble, who was using his laser vision and super strength trying to break out of his cage. Jack was focused entirely on Castiel and Dean, running to them and immediately working on healing. All of the volunteers immediately surrounded them.

“How did you do that?” demanded Kevin Tran, a poor kid in the big house for computer hacking. Pretty quick on his feet, though. “And why didn’t we  _ lead _ with that?!”

“I’m a džin,” Jack answered. “A healer. On our planet, my ability to heal my Garrisonian is all that matters.” He shrugged, even while he was working Castiel’s fingers between his own, glowing slightly. “If something is interfering with my ability to do that, my power becomes kind of limitless.”

“You’re telling me we could have just used  _ him _ as bait the whole time?” Ruby said, nastily, gesturing to Castiel with disgust. “We literally could have let Goliath punch him in the solar plexus and then had him trapped immediately.”

“A punch like that might have killed him,” Jack snapped. “And anyway, this plan was working.”

Lee snorted. “Clearly.” 

Jack glared at him.

Castiel, his heart slowing with the ebbing of pain and lessening of immediate danger, considered Ruby’s proposal.

He pulled his last pinky away from Jack before he could finish. Jack blinked at him in question.

“Do you think if you wait to heal me, you could get some of Crowley’s blood?”

Jack made a pained face. “Boss, you know that’s not how–”

“No, I know. But think about it: if he stays this powerful, after what we’ve done, he’s never going to let me heal. He’ll keep me in pain constantly. And he’ll have the power to do that unless we depower him.”

Jack considered it.

“You should try it,” Dean chimed in, seeming to come back to himself a bit. His voice was very hoarse, his vocal cords probably bruised with the force Crowley had to have used to throw him such a distance.

Jack frowned, leaning forward and resting his palm against Dean’s throat. There was a glowing and Dean sighed in relief.

Castiel looked at Jack, eyes wide. “Have you ever healed a human before.”

“No,” Jack answered, simply. “But he’s a part of you. Healing him counts as healing you.”

Kevin snickered and Claire went  _ “Awwww” _ as both he and Dean turned red.

“Uh, thanks,” Dean said clearing his newly healed throat. “But, yeah, blood? We do have that spell to finish.”

Jack wavered, still usure.

“Do it.”

Jack immediately straightened, jumping to his feet and walking to Crowley’s dome.

“What was the voice just now?” Dean asked, quietly enough that only Castiel could hear.

Castiel shrugged, uncomfortable. “I activated his service gene. I don’t like doing it, but we didn’t have time to convince him.”

Dean made a hum of interest, his eyebrows doing something that made Castiel blush.

“Now is not the time, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean smirked. “Later then.”

Castiel forced his eyes away to watch Jack.

Crowley was clearly trying to dig his way out through the ground, throwing his strength and laser-eyes at the grass beneath him. He was making no headway.

Jack reached through the dome as if it wasn’t there and punched Crowley straight in the nose.

Castiel choked in surprise, half laughing at the look of shocked offense on Crowley’s face, even as his nose healed immediately.

Jack pulled out his hand, droplets of blood speckling his knuckles.

He rushed over to Cas, pulling him to his feet (ankle healed) and gripping his waist. “Fly us over, boss. The sooner we can get this done, the sooner we can stop testing the limits of this loophole. I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Castiel admitted, but he looked at Dean before taking off, checking to see if he was okay.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m fine! Go, let’s get this over with.”

Castiel sighed in relief, shooting Dean a smile, and flying back.

  
  


The spell and depowering were a real anticlimax. Jack’s forcefield fell before he’d even finished healing Castiel’s hand, Crowley so clearly no longer a threat.

The warden had had cuffs with her, hoping beyond hope they’d pull it off, and she was ready for when they did, arresting Crowley on the spot.

“What do you think, Castiel – this counts as a violent offense, right?”

Castiel grinned. She’d called him by his name. “Yes, Jody, I’d say so.”

She smiled back at him before pulling back on her mean warden face and forcing Crowley into the back of her police car.

 

There was too much. Too many unanswered questions, too much behind the scenes. 

Like Dean had said, Balthazar had been using his patients as samples in his research study, not at all focusing on their recovery. Castiel had had to dismiss him immediately and bring in someone new.

Dr. Garth Fitzgerald IV was not someone one would expect when they thought of an addiction counselor. He was very sunny, a little bit scrawny, and not exactly an ‘intellectual.’

None of that mattered. His patients adored him. And he was kind hearted enough and had enough goodwill to fly in to Castiel’s city and work with a rumored super villain to bring recovery and healing to a bunch of convicts.

Everyone who had attended the big fight and helped Castiel with Crowley were so inspired by their leader they brought a whole new energy to the rehab center upon return. Claire herself led the effort to humanize Castiel more by leading a meme campaign centered around their huge battle.

_ “You literally had to watch the villain yeet your boyfriend,”  _ Claire had cackled.  _ “He was yote.” _

Castiel wasn’t sure what that meant but he was happy to have Claire and Kaia back on his side in any case.

There were still many things to do, many things the city and local government needed to know. Castiel had no choice but to hold a press conference.

An official one, through official channels. He let Jody and Sam Winchester set it up, Dean holding his hand right up until he had to walk out on stage.

Dean had chosen to act in support of Castiel instead of being one of the reporters questioning him. “It’s not like I have a cameraman anymore anyway,” he’d said. Castiel had grimaced and Dean had kissed him on the nose.

So it was Castiel at the podium full of microphones, Sam Winchester and Warden Jody Mills on his left side and Jack and Dean on his right.

Castiel kept his wings tucked close to his back. He wanted to make sure everyone could see the people here supporting him. The people he loved.

“Thank you for coming,” Castiel started, leaning into the microphones before leaning back. He wasn’t sure what the proper protocol for this was. He looked back at Dean who picked his chin up and smiled. Castiel copied him. “You all know me as Bold Defiance. My… friends… know me as Castiel. I’m here today to discuss the events of the past few days and to put forth ideas on how we move forward. But first: I think I can take some questions.”

Everyone surged forward at once. 

Castiel, a little overwhelmed, pointed at a woman toward the middle.

“Cassie Robinson, Girardeau Daily Times. My question is what brought you to become this figure of evil turned good?”

Castiel’s mouth twitched. He leaned back a bit, letting his wings extend just a little as he began. “Well, Ms. Robinson. It all started the day I was born…”

  
  


Dean turned to look at him, the sun just behind his head, turning his light brown hair into a halo. “You ready for this?”

It was a year later. Much had changed, but much more had stayed the same.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever feel as though I’m ready for this,” Castiel answered honestly. “It doesn’t feel real. I spent most of my life playing the villain. What does someone do when they’re suddenly asked to switch roles?”

Dean snorted. “I wouldn’t say suddenly, you drama queen. You’ve been working for the good of the people longer than I’ve known you. The only thing that’s new is that people started recognizing you for it.”

Castiel sucked his lips into his mouth, breathing out through his nose. He looked out over the city, noting the differences in the skyline. The new facility for his rehab center. The new community park, run by and for the citizens. The restored opera house. He felt Dean’s hands brush over his wings, his arm going around Castiel’s waist. His face relaxed.

“I don’t know how you keep convincing me to perch on top of stuff with you,” Dean said, huddling closer to Castiel. “You know I don’t like heights.”

Castiel’s mouth quirked up. He curled a wing over Dean’s shoulders, his own arm coming up to grip Dean’s waist. “You just like the excuse to stay close to me.”

Dean looked over at Castiel, his eyes dancing. “Do I need an excuse?”

“No,” Castiel told him, grinning fully now. “No you don’t.”

He leaned up the slightest bit and kissed him. Dean kissed him back, by now the motion practiced and comfortable but no less perfect for it.

Dean hummed and leaned back, squeezing once more at Castiel’s waist before grabbing his hand, stepping back away from the edge of the roof. “Come on, we better get down there. They’re about to start the unveiling ceremony.”

Castiel was still grinning, allowing himself to be pulled. “They wouldn’t start without me.”

“Of course not; it’s your statue.” Dean rolled his eyes. “But how rude would being late be?”

Castiel chuckled, coming face to face with Dean at the center of the roof. “Well if we’re going to be late, shouldn’t we take my way down?”

Dean frowned, whining, but Castiel knew it was a show. He clung tightly to Castiel’s shoulders as Castiel scooped him into a bridal carry, extending his wings and preparing to glide to the base of the Institute of Heroism. 

“Cas, wait,” Dean started, his grip on Castiel maybe a little too firm for what the journey required.

“Hmm?” Castiel tipped his head, looking at Dean with curiosity.

Dean grinned. “Come on, man, you know that makes you look like a bird.”

Castiel smiled back, squeezing Dean where he held him. “What is it, Dean?”

Dean breathed, looking up at him. “You know I love you, right?”

Castiel’s heart soared and, before he knew it, he and Dean were in the air as well.

Dean gasped and started swearing at the sudden flight, gripping Castiel even more tightly. Castiel let out a shout of laughter, ducking his head to nudge Dean into looking at him again. 

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean smiled, even while he was terrified of being in the air. He reached up and put his hand to Castiel’s neck, leaning up to kiss him one more time.

Castiel had never felt more super.

 

**Author's Note:**

> We did it kids!  
> If you made it through the whole fic without knowing what movie it's based off of, this fantastic film was [_Megamind!_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CJUQr4Vs40)  
>  If you haven't seen the actual movie it's very cute check it out.
> 
> If not, I hope you enjoyed the fic anyway!
> 
> A million thanks to my beautiful and talented artist, Deli! The theme for the art is "Defying Gravity" which is very cool and I'm obsessed.  
> You can see the art separately on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19064737) or reblog on [tumblr](https://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/post/185315320413/defying-gravity) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/686145) (Do you reblog things on pillowfort? I have no idea how that works) but either way please leave lots of love look how cool this art is holy shit?????
> 
> My beta was again the lovely [andimeantittosting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting) who is my lifeboat in the big bang sea.
> 
> And, as always, I am [Saywhatjessie](https://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you can reblog it [here](https://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/post/185331519005/spnmbb-2019-bold-defiance-by-jessjessthebest) or the official SPNMBB post [here.](https://spnmoviebigbang.tumblr.com/post/185331277425/title-bold-defiance-author-saywhatjessie)


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